


In the Arms of the Ocean

by Muffins



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, F/F, Infidelity, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffins/pseuds/Muffins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Johanna Mason was on her doorstep. After seven years."</p><p>What happens after an entire nation is torn to pieces and needs to be rebuilt? Set after the Capitol’s collapse and new government uprising—Katniss finds herself waging another battle inside of herself. After losing everything, is it possible to find happiness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This could kind of be considered a sequel to my other fic (We've Not Yet Lost All Our Graces), as I allude to some events from Johanna’s past (which is really just my head canon), but you will not be confused if you haven’t read it. Both stand on their own :) Enjoy!

Katniss’ hand gripped the rag as it swept along the shelves collecting dust when she heard the dull knock on the door.

She straightened her shirt and swept the hair from her face before she clasped the cold metal handle, placing her thumb on the latch, and pressed down, creating a sunlight burst in the darkened entryway.

“Hi, Katniss.”

The voice doesn’t register to her ears right away and it takes a few seconds of looking at the woman in front of her before she realizes who it is. Her hair has grown significantly since she last saw her—the scraggly re-growth from a once-bald head had turned into sleek black hair hitting mid-way down her neck, paired with bangs: cut to precision in a straight line at her eyebrow line. Her flowy black skirt runs into her thick black tights and black knee-high boots, the only pop of color being a thick, green fisherman’s sweater. It seems comfortable looking enough, but the weight of the fabric hangs on her, exposing her sharp shoulders. The shoulders she once caressed and kissed.

Johanna Mason was on her doorstep. After seven years.

“I-It’s been a while.” Johanna says nervously, voice hitching as she starts to speak, hands wringing the cuffs of her sweater after she speaks, waiting for a response.

 

_Katniss made her way to Johanna’s room—she had barely seen her since she had been in segregation after landing one of her arrows through Coin’s head. She was escorted to see Snow’s trial and eventual beheading, where she caught glances of Johanna and heard her voice as she took the stand against him. But, after the trial, she was whisked away and put under lock-and-key until she proved herself “sane” and “trustworthy”: at least that she wouldn’t assassinate their new leader. It had been several days—she forgot how many at this point—and she hadn’t spoken with Johanna since she had to leave her in Thirteen. She knew she was in the mansion, as she, too, was important personnel, but as she made her way to Johanna’s room she noticed it was slightly ajar—not typical Johanna behavior._

_She knocked on the cracked door and waited for a response. The hinges creaked from the slight pressure as Katniss pushed open the door after a silent response. The room was in disarray: The bed sheets half-torn off the bed and onto the floor, drawers open, towels draped over furniture. As she walked around she noticed food wrappers and containers on the bedside table, and, as she looked closer, a solitary pine needle: broken and browning._

_It was all done in haste, she thinks. She knows from the state of her room that she left. She made a quick decision and... vanished. What made her leave? The questions run through Katniss’ mind quickly, but all the rationale in the world wouldn’t make sense of it. None of it would explain why her heart has a sudden heaviness, why she’s falling to her knees and sobbing out to the empty room._

Johanna looks at Katniss’ faintly lined forehead and thinned face—she’s lost her young roundness and has aged into a woman. She wishes she could rub her thumb over the worry lines on her face and resolve her of the fright in her eyes by explaining everything; but even Johanna has a hard time forgiving herself of some of things she did back then, or, rather, what she didn’t do. It’s the same guilt that brought her to Katniss’ doorstep.

“You left and never said a word.” Katniss finally says, forgoing pleasantries. The message hits Johanna in the chest, a laden feeling welling up in her. “I stopped trying to find you… Stopped trying to figure it out.” She remembers back to all the searching she did, eventually finding a potential address and sending her a letter, never to receive one.

“I know.” Johanna looks down now, ashamed at the evident pain she’s caused. “I’m sorry.”

 

_She grabbed the rucksack she had taken from Thirteen and charged to the drawers, pulling them out and off the hinges furiously, stuffing a few articles of clothing inside—underwear, socks, a shirt and an extra set of pants. Everything else could stay, she couldn’t fit it and she might not need it, she thought—hopefully. It was now or never. With the Capitol in such a state of flux, it was the best time as any to leave: to go back to seven. This wasn’t home; no one needed her any more._

_She knew it was a selfish act—to leave at dawn without a word—especially to Katniss.  Johanna thought of all she had gone through; she had just lost her sister, assassinated a president, lost some of her only friends, lost any idea of stability, and she wasn’t helping, couldn’t help ._

_’Just like you, to run away from anything good in your life,’ She thought to herself, making her body work harder, quicker, as she tore through each drawer to decide whether or not the items were necessary. She stopped in her self-loathing fueled fury when she spotted the bundle of pine needles on the nightstand. She stood, nearly naked to the room and picked up the bundle slowly, pulling it close to her face and inhaling its scent through her nose, letting it escape through her mouth. She repeated this process a few times, keeping her other hand on her stomach, feeling her belly rise and fall with the breaths. The sharpness of most of the needles had dulled and the scent was faint: she really had to try after the first wave of breaths. She noticed some were browning and brittle, some falling out of the bundle when she picked it up. She stuffed what was left of it into the bag, though she would get to smell the real thing, if she wanted, in mere hours._

_Nothing felt right anymore, and she wasn’t stable. She hated herself for sneaking away in the break of day, as if she were dirty—something that needed to be swept under the rug—but she couldn’t face Katniss, if she were even getting out this week. The uncertainty of her surroundings spun around her, dizzying her. She couldn’t see a life with Katniss after all that had just happened, or with the way she was thinking; she wasn’t the stability Katniss needed. Nothing felt secure, especially herself._

_Johanna made her way down the maze of hallways to the front doors and gave a nod to the officer guarding the entrance. He let her go after scanning her thumbprint: her parting declaration. She rode the subway to the train station, fists balling the straps of her rucksack tight. ‘You could go back—Katniss could be out any day now… You never know what could happen.’ But it was just the last thought that scared Johanna—the uncertainty. What if she fucked everything up? She couldn’t live with herself if she hurt Katniss after everything she had gone through. What made sense to her was to leave. Leave before she hurt anyone further, including herself._

_She fiddled with the ticket nervously as she stepped onto the platform and onto the train, switching it from one hand to the other—daring it to fall and become lost. She picked an empty car and sat on a wide seat, spreading out her belongings on the chair in front of her, placing her feet on it, too, creating a bridge. She looked around the war-torn Capitol from the high train platform, noticing how great and looming the mountains in the distance looked when paired to the still-standing sleek Capitol buildings. Everything looked so fragile, like crystal in a display hutch. It’s amazing it didn’t crack sooner, she thinks._

_The train started with a jolt, pulling Johanna out of her thoughts for a moment. The conductor followed soon after, scanning her ticket and punching it—maintaining the old-world style tradition, even though the scanning does everything necessary. Her mind went back to Katniss—the image of her going to Johanna’s room to find her gone nearly makes her get up and jump off the train and run back. But, she realizes—either way, Katniss is going to be hurt. She’s not ready. Not stable enough. Not what Katniss needs nor deserves._

_When the conductor comes back through from the end and works his way into the car in front of her, she looks around to make sure she’s alone, and begins to cry._

 

Katniss still holds the door ajar, gripping the width of it, feeling the hard wood chilled on her palm while her body heat rages.

“I could never tell you how sorry I am.” Johanna starts again. “I miss you. I miss what we had.”

A flicker in Johanna’s eyes makes Katniss stop for a moment, feeling a physical pang in her chest as she sees the tears forming in the eyes of the woman in front of her. Someone who should be a stranger to her, but is instead someone she wants to wrap in her arms and cry with.

A tear rolls down Johanna’s face and she sniffs as she feels liquid nearly make its way onto her upper lip. “I should probably go,” she says, before she lets any more of herself go. “I’ll be staying at Sae’s hostel in town... Surprised she’s still around…” Johanna begins to turn around and walk down the steps.

“She’ll outlive us all.” Katniss says jokingly, as if she didn’t just have the proverbial rug torn out from underneath her, as if Johanna Mason wasn’t on her doorstep after seven years, apologizing and crying.

Johanna smirks and puts her head down, walking a few steps before turning back around, looking at Katniss, who is still standing in the doorway. “Can we meet tomorrow? To talk?”

Her stomach knots at the idea, but she is so tempted by it: by what needs to be said, what she needs to hear, and, by Johanna. “Y-yeah, of course.”

She watches Johanna make it halfway down the road before she looks back, making her to realize that she’s still standing in the doorway, gripping it with her fingers, letting the cool autumn air into the warmth of her home. She steps back and closes the door, hearing the latch echo in the emptiness of the entryway. She turns around and leans back onto the door, sliding down until she’s sitting on the cold floor, knees bent up to her chin, as she lets out a sob into the quiet stillness.


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss sat in the stiff chair her mother bought her, knees pulled up to her chin, forehead resting on them as the tears continued to fall down her face, though, slower now.

She sniffs loudly before using her sleeve to wipe off her face when the latch on the front door clicks open, squeaking a bit as the door swings open on its hinges. As the door clicks shut, Katniss flicks her head up, fixing her face further—wiping the tears off her cheeks, though their evidence is plainly seen by the redness on them.

“Hey, Katniss. How wa—” He stops mid sentence, looking at the all-too-familiar sight in front of him. Sometimes, it’s expected—an anniversary of some sort—but he knew the dates by heart, too; they weren’t easy days to forget. He was keen to predicting how Katniss would feel, but, sometimes, like now—it was unexpected, and waves of sadness would wash over her. He, too, knew the feeling all too well. Some days it was a struggle to get out of bed. He stopped trying to talk Katniss into a better mood after a few tries—there was no rationale that would make it all okay or make her suddenly happy. And he realized he didn’t have to do that for her. It was better to feel, right? He thought. Instead, he did as he said he would many years ago: he was there for her at any time, her rock; there to hold her, smooth her hair, listen to her if she wanted to talk, and sometimes be her handkerchief. He would pick her up and dust her off when she needed it, and tonight was no different. He assumed it was because she was thinking of Prim, but didn’t dare to ask anymore. He did what he thought he should do: what he promised. And Katniss appreciated him for it—she was glad to have him around in times like this.

Peeta walked over to Katniss and perched himself on the edge of the chair and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his space, holding and caressing her as she cried the remaining tears she had. Katniss inhaled the yeasty smell on his clothes—Peeta always smells so warm and inviting when he arrives home each afternoon from the bakery, she thought. She’s glad he had that respite: it was something he was good at and made him feel accomplished, worthwhile, happy. Like she had hunting, Peeta had baking.

The way his fingers smooth her side up and down remind her of how he first held her the same way when he found her in Johanna’s room the morning she left. It’s the way he always holds her when she’s upset—each bad day, each anniversary of a loved-one’s death.

 

 

_He pushed the door open to find Katniss on Johanna’s bed, holding a pillow and crying, something he wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for the wet-sounding sniffs he heard here and there.”Katniss?”_

_She rolled over, looking him in the eye, no shame about her feelings. “When did she leave?”_

_“This morning, apparently. Just after dawn… she didn’t tell anyone.” He steps closer to her. “I didn’t know.” He clarifies. He sits next to her hips on the bed and places a hand on her side, moving it to her back and rubbing her up and down. “I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments and gentle strokes, “I know how close you both had gotten.”_

_He knew nothing, Katniss thought. He didn’t know how Johanna’s lips felt on hers, how soft her skin was, how she had two dimples on her lower back. She jolted to the side, moving out from under his touch violently. She wished she could push him away: banish him for even thinking he knew anything about them. But she wouldn’t. She knew deep down he didn’t deserve it; he was only helping._

_“I’m sorry.” He took his hand back quickly, embarrassed that he made Katniss feel uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t have done that.”_

_He stood up, realizing that she needed time alone, and made his way to the door. Before walking over the threshold he turned around, “I’ll always be there if you need me, Katniss.”_

And he was right, she thought now: he was. He was always slow with her, kind, apologetic, supportive. It’s what made her come to him days after the event, without a word, and he held her as she cried. Looking back, he was always there for her, always by her side—her safety net, her comrade in the struggle—the branch to her mockingjay. He was so strong, much stronger than her, she thought; after all, he had to relearn about what was true and real. And, some nights, he would cry with her, over everything he had lost, too.

They decided, along with Haymitch and many others, that they would go back to their districts and rebuild. Peeta became the poster-boy face of the rebuilding effort and spoke very highly of President Paylor’s campaign to create teams to go out to each town in each district to help—‘It’s important that we unify, overcome, and  transcend the past regime,’ she remembered him saying over a broadcast one night. Paylor assigned Gale to execute the mission, despite being weary of him after the Capitol bombing. He displayed a strong command and initiative when developing the plan and delegating soldiers out of district two. She gave him all the resources he needed and Gale worked miracles in some districts—even giving some populations a better quality of life they had than before the rebels rose to power. The rebuilding effort ensured that each district would have clean drinking water, farmland, housing, medical resources, schools, plumbing, shops, and, most importantly, that the initial industries before the fall could still continue on—but now, the people would see benefits of it financially; not everything—not even a majority—would be shipped out to the capitol.

Gale, of course, volunteered in twelve when he wasn’t managing teams in other districts. Katniss figured he came back out of guilt, but she couldn’t bear to see him around. Seeing his face from across the town square didn’t bring out the old, warm feelings of the two of them together hunting and fooling around; instead, seeing his face made her sick to her stomach. His steely gaze made her think of all she had lost: most specifically, Prim, her mother, and Johanna. Not all dead, but all gone. On the days she would spot Gale, she would come home and spend the night thinking of Prim, her darling sister who was braver than she could ever dream to be. Prim always knew what was right to do and was willing to put herself in danger to do it. She was the sunshine in her life, like Rue: the ones she fought for. If Prim was the warm, gentle sun, then Johanna was the raging sea—pulling her in and out in the undertow, but full of wonder. Her mother, too, was gone. Not dead, but in district four, unable to return to twelve after all the heartache, memories, and loss. Katniss hadn’t seen her in years.

Four and a half years, now that Katniss thinks of it: shortly after she finally agreed to marry Peeta. He asked, for the first time, a few months after they had settled back in twelve; he knew Katniss was unhappy and foolishly thought that it would make her feel fulfilled—as if she was able to be distracted from what hurt her. But it wasn’t so easy. Even living with Peeta was a struggle after not having a place to call her own for so long, and before that, sharing her space with her mother and sister: memories of cooking dinner from a fresh kill, or braiding Prim’s hair in the morning when their mother couldn’t be bothered flooded her memory. Even with so much animosity and sadness in her old home, it had become comfortable to her. She hadn’t felt that predictability in ages, and was only now getting used to life with Peeta by her side. It’s not as if she disliked Peeta, but she wouldn’t really open up to anyone. The few times she would let it all go was just after sex, usually after Katniss had drank a little too much and tried to find comfort in Peeta’s warm, giving body. Sometimes the soft caress of his hands on her thighs would remind her of Johanna, though his tongue worked her in a different way. He asked the question for the first time, still breathless from their encounter, to Katniss’ glossy eyes. They gazed at one another for a few moments before Katniss uttered a simple “no.” He apologized, as he always did, even if he didn’t need to.

They spoke about it a few times after that—Peeta would wonder about their future out loud and Katniss would keep it curt. She didn’t know if she deserved to even be remotely happy, she said after he asked the third time, after two years back in twelve. She wasn’t completely happy with Peeta: he wasn’t her ideal pick—but he stuck around when no one else cared to. Did she even deserve that little stability? After all, she knew who her heart truly belonged to. The one person who stuck in her dreams, her fantasies, and the one who she pictured in her future: Johanna.

But, it wasn’t until now that she thought Johanna Mason would ever be in her life again. So, those four and a half years ago, after Peeta told her she deserved to be happy and comfortable, she met with him under a tree and had a small ceremony with Haymitch, Effie, and her mother close by as witnesses. She could do much worse—and if Peeta was going to care for her so much, Katniss felt obliged to give him something he wanted, even if he could never have all of her. The ceremony was short, and Katniss braved a smile throughout it. When she and Peeta arrived back home, she prepped a fire for the Toasting, while Peeta prepared a perfectly baked loaf of bread for the ceremony. Together, they placed the kindling and wood together, lit the fire, and toasted slices of bread in the hearth.

Peeta lay Katniss down next to the hearth that night and they consummated the marriage in the different light. Katniss was thankful he wasn’t a selfish lover—he worked very hard to make her happy—body and soul. As the fire began to die, Peeta finished inside of her for the first time, a sensation that made her feel uneasy. She slipped away from him shortly after and went into the bathroom to clean herself up, but instead found herself sitting on the edge of the bathtub, crying. The idea of motherhood was too much to take at the time, so she went to the local chemist’s store and discreetly purchased a tab to take to help her in case of an unwanted pregnancy, a relatively new—and still slightly taboo—practice. After all, Snow would want as many children born as possible to put in the Games. He was a strict “life” advocate, a completely hypocritical belief given his love for traumatizing childhood bloodshed. He outwardly chastised those who were unable to get pregnant, or lost a child, and it was reported that he raked his eyes over live-birth tolls on a nightly basis. Thankfully the solution existed now, regardless of the social thought.

As she rubbed her head deeper into the yeasty smell in Peeta’s flannel, she remembered the conversation they had mere days ago—how Peeta mentioned little ones running around their yard. If he only knew the precautions Katniss took when she was intimate with him to prevent such a circumstance from occurring: to taking morning tabs, to withholding sex during ovulation, to taking pills to make herself sterile during her natural cycle. It wasn’t that she disliked children— she had basically raised Prim, after all—but in the state she was in, she wouldn’t be the mother a child deserved. Her own mother’s instability made Katniss skip her own childhood to protect Prim’s. She wasn’t a terrible mother. Just, sometimes, she thought, it would have been better if she was truly gone than emotionally unavailable.

Peeta’s rubbing stops momentarily and he makes his way up from the chair, explaining that he needs to get a blackberry stain out of his favorite shirt and apologizes for his brevity. Katniss gives a simple, “It’s okay.” Before he leaves her side, “I’m fine.”

But after Johanna Mason came knocking at her door that morning, she’s not sure how she even has two feet on the ground.

She peeks out the bay window to where she last saw Johanna, before she became a small figure and faded into the dusty road. She stared at the spot and blinked a few times, as if when she opened her eyes, Johanna would reappear.


	3. Chapter 3

The thin curtains Sae put up in the boarding house let in the autumn morning sunlight—it’s rich hue pairing with the crisp chill seeping in from under the lip of the ajar window. It’s almost too cold to be without clothes, Johanna thinks, though the chunk of light resting on the blankets warms her stomach as she snuggles deeper under the covers. Her eyelids are still heavy as they fight against the beckoning sunlight. When her eyes adjust, she turns her vision over to the window to the side of her, looking at the bright leaves fluttering for miles in the morning breeze. Even though the narrow hallways and tiny steps were a pain to come up with luggage, she was glad she was placed on the fourth and highest level. Some of the nearby trees are still quite small after rebuilding, but she can tell that the ones miles away would just reach the roof of the building she was in now: a stark contrast to the three hundred footers back home—even when she looked out her highest window, she is only given a glimpse their lower branches.

She replays the last few days in her head, agonizing over whether or not she’s doing the right thing. She knows it’s what she needs, but would Katniss fair better if she left? If she never came? The thoughts started the moment she boarded the train to twelve and haven’t stopped since. Still, they didn’t completely stop her from knocking on Katniss’ door yesterday afternoon.

 

_The smell of heat passing through the house rouses Johanna from her sleep, though the smell soon becomes the most comforting sense when she sits up from her bed, awakening her brain to throb repeatedly against her skull. She’s thankful the only light source is the sliver of light where the thick, dark curtains don’t completely meet, though, even that is proving too much. She places a hand out to steady herself from the throbbing in her head, but her palm only finds the sheet-covered back of a mysterious woman. Johanna jolts back slightly from the touch, stirring the sleeping woman to turn onto her side, slipping the sheet down to reveal her olive-toned back and long, flowing black hair. When the woman is still again, Johanna puts herself into a standing position, feeling the pressure in her head alleviate slightly as the blood rushes to her feet. Her nipples pert when her feet touch the cold wooden floors, the heat having yet to spread through the house—though it must be late for the sun to be this bright already, she thinks. It’s only then that she realizes she’s naked—another classic characteristic of a heavy night of drinking for Johanna. She moves swiftly to the bathroom to wrap herself in her robe—the thick flannel enveloping her body as the heat surges again in the house. She grabs the pill bottle off the counter—something she uses so often that it never found its place back to the cabinet. The tiny pills rattle against the plastic container—the agonizing sounds her only refuge from the now daily alcohol-induced headaches. But, she’s used to the charade. Will need to get more soon, though, she thinks._

_Johanna sneaks her way down to the kitchen and looks around at the mess before slicing herself a piece of bread to toast for breakfast. She can hardly find a place to put her plate amongst the countertops covered with bottles, takeaway boxes and crumpled napkins, looking as if she had a party the night before, instead of a week’s worth of build-up. She finds the kettle easily enough, however, and fills it to halfway and puts it on the electric plate, waiting for the water to boil. She glances at the hologram timestamp on the wall: 11:17. She knew it was later than it looked. Winter can be so deceiving, she notes. She places her buttered toast and tea on a small clearing on the edge of the table and pulls up an unpadded chair. She spots a small bottle of whisky on the table and splashes a bit into her tea—anything to keep the slowly fading headache at bay. As she bites into her slightly burnt toast, she hears the familiar latch of the mailbox; she glances back to the hologram for the date: February 21 st. Haymitch’s letter might have arrived, she thinks._

_She tightens the belt on her robe and walks to the door, slipping on her sturdy, fur-lined boots and opens her front door to the bitter cold air. February had become her least favorite month in recent years, most especially due to the squalls that would quickly pass through town, coating nearly everything in ice and trapping everyone inside. Though, this morning was much calmer. She walks down the short path to the mailbox, stepping gingerly on the freshly packed snow that fell overnight. She puts her index finger under the latch and pushes with her thumb to open the mailbox—the familiar short screeching noise cutting through the soft tinkling sound of the snow settling. She looks inside the box, as a soft breeze blows up her robe—the bitter cold air reminding her that she isn’t wearing anything under her robe and boots. She skims through the parcels—noticing Haymitch’s drawn-out scrawl adds a smile to her face, the first one in she isn’t sure how long. She quickly makes her way back inside, slipping her boots off as the door clicks shut. Her foot partially steps in a melted snow puddle near her boot, sending even more chills reverberating through her body._

_Johanna makes her way back to the table where she momentarily abandoned her breakfast: the whisky-infused tea still steaming hot, but the toast has lost most of its warmth already. She sits down at the table, letting her robe sag open, exposing her nakedness to the kitchen. She slides a finger underneath the flap of Haymitch’s letter, her heart beating faster with anxious excitement. She remembers the night that brought her to write the letter she sent him nearly two weeks ago—just after fighting a drunken battle with every object in her home, including her precious garden, which she meticulously cultivated. Her hands wrote feverishly with soil still under her nails as she unloaded nearly seven years of turmoil, anger, sadness, and regret about Katniss onto Haymitch. She knew that it wasn’t necessarily the best thing to do to him now that Effie had begged him to try sobriety. Even though Haymitch’s letters over the past year were written in calculated and sober script, Johanna usually went back to their roots: her writing style differing depending on the type of alcohol she drank to excess that night._  
  
She flips open the envelope, exposing the solitary once-folded piece of paper—something out of character for him. Sober or not, Haymitch was a great storyteller and could fill nearly a dozen pages. She slides her thumb just under the crease, lifting the top up, to read the only side with text. The smell of fertilizer and lavender seem to fill the air around her suddenly, hanging in the balance.  
  
Johanna’s eyes dart over the few words on the page, her heart picking up speed as her eyes go over each letter. His message is only four words long, but the weight of it takes control of Johanna’s body. Her once freezing frame has beads of sweat protruding from the pores on her upper lip and lower back. Her hands start to shake as she places the letter open-faced on top of the piles of old mail on the table, standing up quickly to make her way upstairs, feeling her knees quiver as they try to hold her up.

_The letter flaps in the breeze created by Johanna’s robe swinging around her frame as she gains her footing and rushes to the stairs._

_Her stomach tightens as her foot hits the first step, her once-sweaty lip creating a chill as she charges up the stairs to her bedroom. She wipes away the perspiration and flings the door open, sending the doorknob into the wall with a loud thud. The sleeping woman rattles in the bed at the sound and sits up, bleary-eyed._

_“Get up.” Johanna nearly shouts as she charges over to the tall window, flinging open the heavy curtains, filling the room with bright light._

_The woman jumps in her place and looks around, as if to familiarize or remind herself where she is and how she got there._

_“It’s time for you to go.” Johanna glances at the naked woman before averting her eyes downward. She notices the robe sagging around her chest and tightens it, as if to provide some modesty._

_The woman looks shocked and confused, but dresses quickly and without a word, gathering most of her belongings and carrying them down the stairs._

_Johanna stays in the room, standing in the direct path of the warm sunlight as her body continues to react to Haymitch’s words. She quickly wipes a single tear off her cheek as she hears the front door slam shut. She doesn’t bother to look outside to see if the woman has really gone._

_She makes her way downstairs again, her body feeling heavier, more grounded, than earlier. She makes her way over to the table in the kitchen, spotting the letter on the stack of old papers, still maintaining its slightly creased form. She keeps her eye on it as she gets closer to the table, as if it may suddenly disappear. She picks up the paper and reads it again, to make sure this isn’t a hallucination. But the words are clearly written on the page in Haymitch’s script:_  
  
 _Mockingjay loves you too._


	4. Chapter 4

The resounding, thudding knock on the door sends a shiver up Katniss’ spine, causing her hand to clatter the porcelain lid onto the kettle. She feels her stomach being dragged down to the floor when she imagines Johanna standing on her stairs for the second day in a row, after an extremely long absence. She places the serving tray on the slab in the kitchen and swiftly makes her way to the door. She pauses for just a moment more as she looks at the mirror in the entryway, attempting to smooth her braided hair, making sure she looks more put-together than she did yesterday: she runs her hands over the sides of her woolen sweater, paying special attention to the tie around her waist.

The latch feels refreshingly cold on her clammy hand when she opens the door to Johanna. This morning, her hair is pulled back in the smallest pony tail, her hair barely long enough to reach the tie, causing some of it hang and frame her face. When she looks out, Katniss catches Johanna in the act of neatening herself up, too—when Johanna looks up, Katniss notices the familiar golden glimmer in her green eyes, brought out all the more by her warm yellow, cable knit sweater. The braids in its pattern remind her of the sweaters Finnick and Annie used to wear; she probably got it in four, she realizes now—a place Katniss hasn’t been able to bear to visit. Soon, she thinks.

Like yesterday, the sweater hangs on Johanna’s sharp shoulders, just barely showing off her chest under the thick knit pattern. It makes her look waifish—as if a strong breeze would billow out her sweater and she could be lifted away. Though, Katniss reminds herself, that she isn’t exactly the pinnacle of health, either: she can’t remember how many times she’s gone a day without eating because staying in bed was all she could do. For all she knows, Johanna could be going through the same thing.

They look at each other for a moment before Katniss says a word, the slight breeze the only noise for miles. “Please, come in.” She opens the door wide, her right hand still on the handle while her other hand is flesh against the side of the door, holding it open.

Johanna steps in; her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the entryway, as she nervously wipes the soles of her shoes on the mat in front of the door. When Katniss shuts the thick wooden door, Johanna is able to see the small part of the home come to life—little metal knickknacks and picture frames glinting the sunlight all over the rooms.

“Your home is beautiful.” Johanna says as she follows Katniss into her kitchen.

Katniss can’t bear to look at Johanna, so she focuses her attention on her surroundings, studying her own space. “Thank you.” She spots the steaming teapot on the countertop, practically begging to be poured. “Peeta and I built most of it.” She states, pouring the greenish tea into delicate cups. “It’s not perfect,” she continues, pouring a second cup-full, “but it’s home. Or something like it.” She looks at Johanna as she places the lid back onto the teapot, managing to set it down gracefully, though she can feel her face flush and her heart race at the sight of her face. It’s not something she’s used to.

“It’s great.” Johanna says, looking around the kitchen at the few accents strewn about or hanging on the walls. “Much cozier than mine.”

Katniss hooks her index finger around the cup’s handle and slowly brings it up to her mouth, blowing on the liquid, sending the steam all around her face in an elaborate swirl. “Where is it you are now?” Her voice seems so formal, the same affect Effie forged for her when she coached her for interviews.

“In the old Victor’s Village—my house was still standing when I went back.” Johanna is careful to tread lightly on the subject of her leaving. After all, she didn’t come here to make Katniss upset.

“Really? You stayed?”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go when I went back.” She blows on her tea before taking a sip—the mint refreshing her palate and sending a cool chill throughout her body. “I got a lot of shit for it, though… at first.”

“I’m sure you did.” Katniss replies, a bit surprised she went back, too.

“I know we were to transcend the past regime and leave old Snow to rot—but, the sick thing is—I still felt like I deserved it.” She places the cup down gently as she takes a deep breath in, feeling her chest cinch with anxiety. “After all he did to me, after all he did to my family… To us…” Johanna looks away now, taking in another sharp breath. “It felt like the biggest ‘Fuck You’ I could give to him: to stay and attempt to be happy there. After all, he couldn’t take it away from me anymore.”

 “It took a while to get there,” Johanna begins again, “The major roads were nearly impassable from the bombings. If there weren’t craters in the land, six hundred year old trees were uprooted left and right. The old man who drove me to the old Victor’s Village was a retired lumberjack and carried a couple of laser saws in his truck. We worked through the night clearing paths on roads—the green laser light so bright it nearly burnt my eyes at times. In a way, I was pretty lucky that the village was so secluded from the town centers… those took years to rebuild. Well… you know that…”

Katniss nods slowly, knowingly, but still entranced by Johanna’s experience.

“The sun was rising when we came to the village. An explosive was dropped nearby, but only destroyed trees and land—my house, for the most part, was left untouched.” She pauses to take a sip of her tea again, swirling the fresh menthol liquid on her tongue. “I felt a weird sense of pride walking up to it, seeing the corner of tall, glass windows still as strong as the wooden parts. Like he couldn’t touch me. He never could. He never actually got the chance, but wanted to… So badly. A lot of people were mad at me for staying there—for not blowing it up myself. But… like I said, I felt like I deserved it. They had no idea what I went through. What I was still battling. They had no idea.”

“They still don’t.” Katniss says, followed by a long silence.

 

“This is wonderful, by the way…” Johanna lifts the cup up again to finish the last of her tea.

“Thank you. I grew the herbs myself.” Katniss isn’t sure if the rush of heat is coming from the tea or Johanna, but it floods her face nonetheless. “These are from the backyard as well.” She reaches for the small fig fruits next to the teapot and offers them to Johanna.

Johanna reaches for one, brushing her fingertips against Katniss’ palm as she grasps onto the mysterious looking fruit. “Is this a fig?” she asks. “I’ve never seen one up close.”

“Yes.” Katniss says, bowing her head and smiling. “Just twist off the stem and pop it in your mouth.”

Johanna’s nervous stomach could barely handle the tea, she wonders how this will go over—but she twists and indulges for politeness’ sake, a trait she would usually leave by the roadside. The gooey seeds crunch in between her teeth and saliva increases with the slightly bitter taste. But it’s nice, she thinks. She’s also flattered that Katniss took the time and energy to produce something so thoughtful for her.

“How about you?” Johanna asks Katniss, “What was rebuilding here like?”

Katniss’ face drops a bit—some days it’s all too hard to remember.

“I’m sorry.” Johanna says, noticing Katniss’ fallen expression. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, really. I’m just not sure what there is to say.” Katniss begins, “Everything was leveled. There was nothing left. Just dust, ashes, rubble…. Nothing. Snow didn’t leave a stone unturned.”

Johanna bows her head, slightly moving it back and forth. “I’m sorry.”

“Haymitch, Peeta and I decided to come back after things had settled in the Capitol—we weren’t sure where exactly our place was any more, and it certainly didn’t feel like home. By then the rebuilding effort was in full force, and groups were already here helping. I’m still not sure if it was the right thing to come back, but it didn’t feel right to stay anymore. So, we came back, helped rebuild, and settled here.”

“I have to admit,” Johanna starts slowly, “I saw you on the evening report a few times, around the time you and Peeta were married.” She looks into Katniss’ eyes.

Katniss looks to the side quickly, with a sour look on her face.

“You know, he asked me four times before I finally said yes.” She says, still focused on a knickknack across the room, unsure why she’s even divulging this information to begin with.

“Why did you?” Johanna’s voice is meek, for once—it grabs Katniss’ attention.

“He was always there for me… Always taking care of me. He knew how to take better care of me than I did… do.” She breaks her stare and looks down at her own lap, fiddling with her hands.

Something she couldn’t be for her, Johanna realizes. “You looked beautiful.”

Katniss tries to hold her emotions back, willing the tears budding at her ducts to retreat.

“I was so angry when it aired.” Katniss scoffs, “It will never go away to them. We will never go away.”

The word ‘we’ hangs heavy in the air between them, though ‘we’ is more than they are. Something they were—could have been.

“Why did you leave?” Katniss finally asks, looking up to meet Johanna’s gold-flecked eyes. “I mean… I just always wondered if you went back to seven after you left the Capitol.”

“I did.” Johanna looks visibly shaken by Katniss’ questioning, though she knew it would have to come to this. “I did. It was the only place I knew to go to.”

“You could have stayed.”

“I couldn’t.” She shakes her head, furrowing her brow. “Too much had happened.”

“What do you mean?” Katniss asks, but she’s not expecting an answer right away. “Why are you here, Johanna?” She commands, instead.

“To make it up to you. I’m sorry.”

“Why now? Why after seven years?”

“I realized a few months ago that I wasn’t where I wanted to be, I wasn’t living the life I wanted to be living. I could have better. Haymitch helped me see that.”

Katniss knew of his dedication and battle with sobriety over the past couple of years, but wasn’t sure how that mattered at this moment.

“But why here? Why are you sitting in my kitchen, drinking tea and eating figs and making small talk? Instead of…” Katniss’ voice rises, passionately. She knows the answer, she just wants to hear her say it.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” Johanna rises quickly from the stool, supporting herself with the countertop as her eyes flood with tears. She makes her way to the entry way, tripping over the corner of a frayed rug. “I’m sorry.” She says again, walking out the door and down the steps of Katniss home.

She still walks fast after several minutes, swiftly making her way down to one of the main streets—passing people and businesses—trying to make it back to her temporary home as quickly as possible, wondering why she had even bothered to come here at all. She wipes the tears from her face and looks into a shop window to see Peeta decorating a beautiful layered cake as he speaks to a customer. He looks up briefly and their eyes meet for a moment before she continues on her journey to Sae’s.

Inside her home, Katniss replays the conversation in her head, trying to pin-point where the tipping point began: the link she’s missing. _‘Haymitch helped me see it.’_ She remembers her saying. Is that who she has to blame?

“Haymitch.” She says into the empty kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

The sitting room is dark save the light coming from the television hologram. Caesar Flickerman bows in front of his audience before he exits, his earth-toned green hair peppered with grays—a graceful transition for the once image-obsessed host. Katniss watches on mute though, one of the only sounds in the room the gentle buzz of the hologram lights and the plop of the rum pouring into her cider. She’s had too much already and she knows it. She has a feeling she’d be passed out by now, if it weren’t for Peeta’s words from dinner lingering in her mind: “I saw Johanna Mason today.” “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?” “We should invite her over.” She almost lost it then and there when he spoke her name—the n’s flowing off his tongue as smooth and warm as the rum traveling down her throat. She left it simple, though: “Really?” “I didn’t know she was coming.” “If you’d like.” After that, she was silent most of the night. And now, alone with her thoughts.

Katniss fumbles for the remote on the seat, pressing several buttons before the hologram shrinks and closes. Her eyes adjust to the darkness, then to the low light emanating from the kitchen. She spots the teapot on the countertop and thinks back to Johanna. Always Johanna.

Her eyes can barely focus on it for more than a moment—she can’t remember the last time she was this drunk. Her eyes flutter with sleep before she hears a loud noise in her head—a memory of her pounding on Haymitch’s door one night, several months ago, with a crumpled envelope in her hand.

_The ground felt hard under Katniss’ feet as she made her way to Haymitch’s house—although they technically lived next to each other, they were quite spread out in the beginnings of the forest. The cold nighttime air chilling her face as she walked quickly, focusing on her steps and what was right in front of her, instead of letting the alcohol-induced blur take over her vision. Just over a quarter of an hour had passed when she stepped on Haymitch’s property, her hand gripping a brown envelope in her fist, her body warm from the alcohol and her quick pace._

_The fist holding the letter slammed on the door three times—she had no idea what time it was at this point, but knew Haymitch had trouble sleeping. They all did._

_“I know you’re in there! Open the door, Haymitch!”_

_She knew Effie had been away in the Capitol doing Public Relations work for a newly-appointed district representative. She was thankful for this fact, as she knew what would follow would not be charming or kind._

_Haymitch opened the door forcefully with a weary expression on his face._

_“Do you know what time it is?” He groans._

_“What is this?!” Katniss shoves the crumpled envelope close to his face, moving past him and into his home, letting the envelope drop behind her._

_Haymitch picks up the letter, scanning his eyes over the return address._

_“The drones must have screwed up in the sort.” He says, flattening the letter._

_“You’ve been talking to her, after all this time?” Katniss sinks into one of the wooden kitchen chairs, tears rolling down her face._

_Haymitch could smell the alcohol on her breath the moment he opened the door—it feels like a betrayal._

_“Katniss, we talk. We’re close. I’m helping her.” Haymitch starts, “I’m not apologizing for that.”_

_“I’m not looking for an apology.” Katniss’ voice rises as the tears continue a steady stream down her face. “You knew how I looked for her… Why didn’t you say anything?”_

_He makes his way over to Katniss—slowly, cautiously—but she lets him get close to her as he wraps an arm around her shoulder. “It wasn’t my place. Maybe she didn’t want to be found.”_

_He’s surprisingly level-headed about all of this, Katniss thinks. Surely he knew how she felt, didn’t he?_

_“I know how much you loved her. I’m sorry.” He says before she can question him again._

_“I still do.” Her muffled voice utters after a few moments pass, her face buried into his chest._

 

All it took was for one name to tear her down that night—and another name to get her going tonight.

Katniss clumsily sets the glass down: the liquid spitting over the lip of the tumbler and onto the wooden table, then whips the blanket off of legs, getting up quickly. Her vision blurs intensely with her fast movement—perhaps she’s never been this intoxicated before.

She steadies herself on objects as she makes her way to the entryway: a chair, the armoire, then, she grips the side of the wall as she bends down to put on her hunting boots. Her knuckles white on the wall as she comes back up to put on her father’s heavy leather jacket.

The force behind her hand on the latch is almost enough to send the thick wood into her nose. She stumbles backwards a bit but regains her balance as she walks out of the door and down the steps, letting the door slam shut behind her. For a moment she wonders if it will rouse Peeta—after all, he needs to be up in only a few hours to prepare at the bakery. She was often thankful for his baker’s hours—he went to bed early and rose early, unlike her own night-owl tendencies. Though, she knew she fared better in the light hours of the day: leaving too much to think about in the silence of the night, like this one, was bad. But, to limit her time with Peeta was a mere avoidance strategy—less time to talk about their future or pressures on her, the better.

Unlike the last time she made the trek to Haymitch’s house, the sides of the dirt road were loose and wet, caking her boots in mud—only adrenaline keeping her steady in between the road and lines of trees.

Only a light or two is on in Haymitch’s home: a soft glow emanating from the windows onto the yellow grass outside. She makes her way up the path quickly—she knows she shouldn’t be here, and yet, here she is. Again.

The tears already start before she reaches the steps—she bangs on the door three times and waits.

Effie comes to the door in her pink silk robe and fuzzy pump-slippers, hair in curlers. Her eyes are makeup-less and her brows are very narrow and light against her skin.

“Katniss, my dear, what is the matter?” She tutts with her tongue as she extends an arm to welcome the wet-cheeked Katniss inside.

Haymitch appears in front of Katniss as she walks inside, her blood boiling at the sight of his face.

“Why’d you tell her?!” Katniss slurs at him, her cheeks reddened with tear stains, her nose running halfway down her lip.

“Katniss, don’t do this to me…” Haymitch says, waving a hand at her. “I can smell it all over you.”

“Fuck you, Haymitch!” Effie steps in between them and puts a hand on Katniss’ shoulder, trying to steady and calm her. “She’s here!”

“I know! We talk.” Haymitch spits back, turning around to create some distance between them.

“Oh, _clearly_ you do!” Katniss curtly replies. “Or else she wouldn’t fucking be here!”

“What is this about, Katniss?” Effie’s hand still steadies Katniss, and the other joins in to rub her back. The silken robe opens a bit to expose her matching pink silk pajamas— _You can take the girl out the Capitol but you can’t take the Capitol out of the girl,_ Katniss remarks to herself.

The gentle touch is enough to make Katniss weak in the knees: her body slumps down against a wall and onto the floor. Effie follows her down, holding her tight against her chest. Maybe she knows, Katniss thinks, or maybe she has no idea. Either way, she doesn’t have to be this caring; Effie would have been a great mother, she thinks.

“I can’t do this.” She whimpers, her forehead on Effie’s shoulder. “My life is different know.” She says, her voice hitching near the end as the tears fall down her face.

Effie turns to give Haymitch a confused, yet concerned look. When she turns back to Katniss, her voice is soft and calm. She reaches under Katniss’ face and places a finger under her chin to lift her head up, like a small child’s. “Who, Katniss?”

Katniss’ watery grey eyes dart back and forth between Effie’s gentle blues. “Johanna Mason.”

Admittedly, Effie wasn’t a star student in school, but she could read people like none other—in fact, it was one of the only things that got her through the charade of school: analyzing characters or her teachers to respond in the best way possible. And now, as she gazed at the crumpled mess in front of her, she knew this was a product of a broken heart and broken soul that had been poorly patched and recently ripped open. She didn’t need any more explanation. She looked back at Haymitch to check in—to make sure that he wasn’t feeling any triggering pressure by this event. He gives a slight nod and mouths the words ‘I’m fine’ before making his way out of the room and back upstairs to their bedroom. On the kitchen floor, Effie holds Katniss against her, rubbing her back, allowing her to feel for what might have been the first time in years.

Effie had an inkling, but didn’t dare to ask after she found out Johanna had left—whether or not there were romantic feelings, Katniss never brought it up herself, so it was best not to ask. It was the polite thing to do.

 

By three in the morning, Katniss is sitting at Effie’s table as she drinks a remedial tea Effie brewed for her.

“How am I supposed to face her again, Eff?” The crying has stopped, but Katniss looks off into her mug, studying the movement of the loose tea leaves on the bottom.

“Katniss, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been building barriers around yourself.” Effie begins, her voice calm and words collected, precise. “And sometimes they were necessary for your survival. But now…” she pauses, as Katniss looks into her eyes, “they’re old and fragile. This one is delicate: it’s tall, but swaying in the winds.” Effie reaches a hand out to Katniss’, “And you need to take it down before it crushes you.” She has a flair for the dramatic, Katniss thinks, but she speaks honestly.

“The war is over, Katniss.”

Her last words stay with her after she’s left Effie and Haymitch’s home, as she walks toward the illuminated horizon. Effie has always managed to be the calm in the storm, even after her world, too, fell apart. She never gave her enough credit for how strong she was— _is_ —since their first meeting. She was a product of her upbringing, but never did wrong by Katniss. She always stood by her, Peeta, Haymitch—everyone, really. She never would have thought at their first meeting that things would end up the way they did: how she would care for Haymitch in thirteen, and care for him enough to get him to stop destroying himself. She gave him something to live for, to fight for—a feeling she once had for Johanna.

Her now-sober hand reaches for the latch of her front door gently, and she presses slowly down upon it, sneaking through the crack. She hangs her coat and places her shoes on the mat without a sound, then toes over to the couch and covers herself with the thick blanket, her back to the room, the table, and the alcohol, as she lets herself drift off against the sunrise.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s still dark when Katniss is awoken by Peeta’s soft rustling in the kitchen before he heads to the bakery. She lies still, facing the back of the couch and away from him. She hears him put on his boots and jacket, only mere feet away from her at this point; he steps toward the door, but stops to look at Katniss on the couch—her dark hair unbraided and cascading over the side of the cushion. He watches her body move slightly with her breaths—she looks peaceful, he thinks. He takes a moment to step over to her and add a blanket to her thinner one, tucking her in. He bends down and brushes his lips on the crown of her head, smelling a slightly herbaceous scent mixed in with her natural oils. He glances back at her once he’s back near the door, hoping today will be one of her better ones. He reaches for the latch and moves outside, quietly shutting the door behind himself. Katniss hears the sharp squeak of the truck door opening, and then the metal clanging together as it shuts. The start of the engine calms her beating heart a bit as she revels in her solitude, eyes drifting off yet again.

The sunlight coming in through the bay window shines onto Katniss’ face, warming it amidst the chilled room. There’s no use to try to move at this point, she thinks—the sun will only get stronger. She squints her eyes and whips the blankets off her body, unleashing the warmth. She gets up slowly, feeling a slight headache from the night before—whatever Effie gave her was a miracle, she thinks—she should not be this well off. The events of last night replay in her head—the most vivid being her chat with Effie. She reminds herself to thank her and apologize. Soon.

Katniss makes her way into the bathroom, her bare feet cold on the tile floor. She looks in the mirror and adjusts her hair and washes her face, leaving a full shower until later. Morning showers on Tuesdays were useless—after going out to hunt, nothing about her body would be even remotely fresh or clean.

As she makes her way into the kitchen to make some tea, she hears a strong knock on the door. At this point, she’s almost sickened that she can recognize her knock. Though, she _is_ thankful that Johanna Mason on her doorstep is no longer a surprising event—even if it still makes her feel like her heart is in her throat. She’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes—at least the same sweater—but she doesn’t care. In a way, she wants to see Johanna to see her as she really is: _this is who I am now, take it or leave it. Again._

The sunlight ignites pounding in her head, while the sight of Johanna pounds at her core and twists her stomach. Her hair is down again today—framing her face beautifully and her clothes are simpler today, too: black boots over tight—yet thick—man-made fabric that clings to her legs, showing off the muscles in her thighs; muscles that she must have gotten climbing trees  throughout her childhood, Katniss wonders. Her top, too, is clinging to her skin—a charcoal grey to match the detailing in her bottoms, all of it highlighting her pale face. And she’s holding a white box, Katniss notices.

“I’m sorry for running out yesterday.”

Katniss stands in the doorway, silent: unsure what to make of this gesture.

“Peeta’s damn good at what he does, by the way.” Johanna says, extending her arm to foist off the doughy rolls.

Katniss extends her arms to take the small token from Johanna, looking at her in the eyes, still wordless.

“You deserve more than that. But if you don’t want me here, I’ll just leave these here and…”

“You can stay.” Katniss finally says. “Come inside. I need to get ready.”

“Where are we going?”

“Hunting.”

 

 

Their walk into the forest is short before they find some wild turkeys. Aside from their little clucks, the only sounds around them are the swish of Katniss’ leather jacket rubbing against itself and the crunch of the leaves and branches under their feet.

The forest looks so much like the one in thirteen, Johanna thinks. She looks around her as they walk deeper into the forest—the bright, vivid colors of the leaves above her flicker in between the bright, clear blue sky and remind her of her time with Katniss in the forests of thirteen.  She remembers their picnic, the sweet berry seeds crunching in between her teeth, her hand on Katniss’ as she taught her how to properly throw an axe. To even think six months ago that she would be in similar forests with Katniss again would be unthinkable. And yet, here she was, walking behind Katniss, looking at her hair tucked behind her bow as she rubs her fingers together—trying to remember what it felt like. She looks away, chastising herself for remembering Katniss in that way; things are different now.

Katniss slows to a stop and puts her hand up behind her to stop Johanna, without losing sight of the turkey. Johanna’s head whips forward when she feels Katniss’ palm on her stomach, fingertips on the underside of her breasts. She takes a step back, gasping slightly. Katniss slowly moves her hand behind her to grab an arrow and load her bow. When she extends her arm back, Johanna takes note of her posture--how her body has changed over the past seven years; her eyes travel up to the string tight against her cheek, stretching her lip back, and she lets herself linger on Katniss’ flesh.

A loud crack of an old branch breaking and falling distracts Katniss and frightens the pack of turkeys off.

“Damn it.”

“It’s okay.” Johanna says, “We’ll keep following them.”

Katniss slides her arrow back into the quiver and puts her bow down, slowly continuing into the forest after the pack.

“You’ve always stayed with me.” She says after a few steps, unsure of why now is the right time to say it. The forest must bring it out in her, she thinks. “I don’t know why you get to me so much.” For the first time in years, Katniss finds herself being emotionally brave—standing face-to-face with her feelings and taking them head on: she thinks Prim would be proud of her. Effie, too—she’ll take her own stones down before they crumble.

“Because I left.” Johanna says. “And because I hurt you.” Her voice is filled with shame and regret. They both still look at the ground as they trod along the damp leaves and brittle branches.

It’s true, and it hurts, but Katniss is glad she said it. Admitted it.

Johanna stops, causing Katniss to stop a step later and turn around to face her.

“Katniss, I’ve only recently realized how out-of-control my life had gotten—how many people I’ve pushed away. I need to make amends.”

Katniss gives a little smile—she can’t help it when Johanna isn’t her familiar defensive self.

“You sound like Haymitch.”

Johanna returns the smirk, rolling her eyes a bit. “Yeah, well, maybe he’s onto something.” She starts the slow pace again, down a steep and rocky hill. Katniss offers her hand to steady Johanna down the slippery rocks, and Johanna concedes to her conflicting thoughts, taking Katniss’ cool hand.

“So, finding out what I said to Haymitch wasn’t the reason you came back?” Katniss keeps up her honesty tirade, though her tone is a bit defensive, guarded.

Johanna’s eyes widen slightly and she can’t help it when the muscles in her mouth try to make a smile. Never underestimate Katniss to put the pieces together so quickly, she reminds herself.

“It made me think.” Johanna says truthfully. It’s not everything, but it’s a start.

“About what?”

“That someone could care about me.” A little more of the truth.

The words and ideas are simple enough, Katniss thinks, though she doesn’t think she’s ever thought of finding out the truth for herself: mostly because, in the end, she doesn’t think she deserves that happiness. Peeta could be enough, she tells herself.

 

“Look.” Johanna says quietly, gliding her hand on Katniss’ shoulder.

She looks up from the ground to see the pack again—they’re looking for food, she thinks, looking at their order. She spots one on the fringe of the group—it’s a small one, but it’ll be plenty for the week. She reaches for an arrow slowly, aiming very quickly after she loads her bow, landing the arrow into her kill—scattering the others in the pack. She takes out her rucksack and puts the turkey in it—it’s too heavy to carry the whole way, so she sometimes drags her kill.

“That was a pretty amazing shot.” Johanna says, I thought for a second the arrow was going to go into a tree before it reached it.”

“Thanks.” Katniss smiles, feeling proud of her ability.

“I should cook for you.” Johanna offers. “You and Peeta, of course. Would you mind?”

Johanna Mason—in her home again? She’s almost afraid of how routine this is becoming. Something she might get used to.

“Sure, if you want...” Katniss trails off, a little uneasy at the thought of the three of them around a table together.

“It’ll be great.”

 

 

They make their way back to the traditional route, making small talk about the weather and what it’s like to live in seven. Katniss had never been, and Johanna has fun describing the enormous trees and mountains. “It’s like you look up in the forest and they almost block out the sun. But it’s somehow still so light and glittery. Like something out of a fairytale.”

Katniss spots her home in the distance from the trail, and she decides to ask the question that’s been on her mind since Johanna said it, before she loses her courage, unprotected from the trees around her.

“You said you realized how out of control your life was… what did you mean?”

“Well, when you realize the only thing you’ve had to eat for two days were beer, liquor, and bar snacks, and you haven’t been awake in the light of day, it’s time to change.” It’s not everything—certainly not the countless, nameless female bedmates—but it’s also not the time, she thinks. At least now she can be in Katniss’ home once again, making up for lost time.


	7. Chapter 7

“That is _not_ how it happened!”

“Oh yeah? Enlighten me, then!” Johanna playfully retorts to Katniss, raising an eyebrow.

Katniss can’t help but smirk at Johanna’s combative expression—the same face she had grown to appreciate seeing in the practice arena.

“Well, I remember walking over to you and Finnick in the mess hall… it was shortly after you two…” She trails off as Peeta and Johanna look glance at eachother. “Anyway, Finnick asked me to grab something at another table and while my back was turned you put the bug in my stew!”

“That was not me it was all Finnick—I swear!” Johanna’s finger taps the table after nearly every word for emphasis.

Peeta laughs at their bickering, though slightly upset he wasn’t deemed sane enough to witness the event. At least he is back to his normal self now, he reminds himself.

“That thing had, like, twelve legs! It was disgusting! I felt them on my tongue at first and spit it out, while you two clutched your sides laughing.” Her words are fierce, but even Katniss can’t help but smirk at the memory.

“I was _deranged_ —what do you want from me?” Johanna laughs out, widening her eyes. “I needed a pick-me-up.” She raises her hand and shrugs her shoulders, as if to concede. “Plus, it was totally Finnick’s idea.”

“Oh, sure!” All three of them are laughing at this point—even Peeta, whose mostly enjoying the scheming of it all. Any good memories are worth bringing up, even if they put off appetites with their twelve legs, Katniss thought.

 

After a moment of catching their breath, Johanna taps her fingers on the table before she begins to speak.

“Annie invited me down, by the way. A standing invitation. Maybe… you could join me?” Her eyes dart from Katniss to Peeta. “You both, I mean.”

Katniss looks down at her lap, unsure how to respond. It’s been years since she’s seen Annie—and she’s not sure how she feels about spending so much time with Johanna so fast; she can feel herself losing grip of her life very quickly.

“I wish.” Peeta finally says, “But my apprentice is still so new, I can’t let her run the shop on her own just yet.” He moves his hand over to Katniss’ on the table, giving a short caress with his thumb. “But you could go, Katniss.”

Johanna looks at his hand upon hers and she feels something in her chest pang and drop slightly, as if a weight had been dropped inside of her.

“Oh, no… I don’t know.” Katniss says, focusing on her lap—she can’t bear to look at either of them.

“You could see your mom.” He says, trying to convince her.

“Your mom is there?” Johanna asks, unsure if she was even still alive.

“Yeah. She hasn’t seen her in ages.” Peeta replies.

“We’ll see.” Katniss says curtly, trying to focus on the meat on her plate once again.

“This is delicious, by the way.” She continues, placing a small piece of the turkey in her mouth. It isn’t warm anymore, but she can’t bear to keep up the conversation any longer.

Peeta takes the hint and agrees with Katniss. “Yeah, Johanna, this is wonderful. Thank you for cooking.”

“It’s the least I could do, having bothered Katniss these past few days.” She gives a small laugh, even though she’s half serious.

“You have? She never said anything.” He’s smiling, but he looks at Katniss with a peculiar look, wondering why she didn’t mention their meeting when he brought up the subject. Perhaps going to four would be best for her, he thinks, after all—maybe seeing Annie and Calder would inspire her to take the next step.

“Thank you, but I’d better get going—it’s getting late and Sae doesn’t like latecomers.” Johanna isn’t tired in the least, but she feigns a yawn, willing to do anything to get away from the way Peeta is looking at Katniss.

“I’ll walk you out.” Katniss says, pushing her chair out.

“You two go, I’ll clean up.” Peeta says, trying to give them an acceptable out—as if he had any skin in the game; as if Katniss wouldn’t leave anyway.

“Thanks, Peeta.” Johanna says, giving him some attention as Katniss turns away from the table and heads into the entryway. “It was great seeing you again.” Her heart has been racing sine Katniss offered to walk her out. She doesn’t need to, and she could speak up to Katniss to save Peeta some pride, but she knows she’ll weakly take any minute with Katniss she can. It’s been so long without her, and they’re just getting back on the right foot again.

 

Katniss waits at the door while Johanna puts on her jacket. Her hands fidget with the fabric in her pockets while she waits for Johanna; she doesn’t know why she’s so eager to leave the house—she normally can’t stand to go outside if it’s not Tuesday—but she feels stifled in the house tonight. Her chest has grown tighter sitting across from Johanna, their feet sometimes clanging together under the table, sending a rush up Katniss’ legs. She knows she’s not being fair to Peeta, and that he must suspect she’s up to something, but she’s not. Is she? She’s not being intentionally sneaky. She would never want to hurt Peeta on purpose.

Johanna moves her hair out from under her collar before she buttons the thick jacket.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Johanna gives Katniss a smirk before she looks down at the floor, still in minor disbelief that she’s with Katniss after such a long absence.

 

The air is cold, but not quite bitter—but it has a chill to it, like before the first snowfall. The night is quiet, too—the only sounds the animals in the forest and their footsteps on the dirt road. It is cold enough after fifteen minutes, though, that Katniss wishes she drove Johanna in Peeta’s beat up truck.

Johanna can feel her nose getting redder as they walk, her breath coming out in visible puffs in front of them, lingering in the air as they walk through them.

“Remember that one day after training you snuck me out to go hunting with you?” Johanna asks, “Today reminded me of that day.”

“When you tripped and landed your foot in a fallen, rotted tree and scared the skunk out?”

“How could I forget? I can still hear your freaking scream when I’m in the forest alone!”

Katniss juts her elbow out to hit Johanna—things almost feel normal between them. Like seven years didn’t fly by.

“The way he waddled!” Katniss imitates the chubby skunk a few steps in front of Johanna, making Johanna laugh into the quiet, jets of warm air coming out of her mouth. “He waddled over to me!” Katniss can’t help but laugh on the edges of the forest as well—her arms wrapping around her tightening stomach as her shoulders loosen up, bending over next to Johanna.

Johanna playfully pushes Katniss on the shoulder, “You freaking ran! Left me with my ankle stuck in the trunk to get sprayed!”

Katniss gets up after stumbling slightly from the little push, her laugher trailing off. “You didn’t even get sprayed!”

“Yeah, good for you!” Johanna says, hitting her elbow on Katniss’ “Or else, _brainless_!”

Katniss turns her head to give Johanna another smirk as they reach the town square, nearly at Greasy Sae’s hostel.

 

“It’s been a long day.”Katniss says, amazed that this time last night she was just pouring herself another glass, only an hour or so away from knocking on Haymitch’s door.

“Yeah?” Johanna inquires, making sure to look at Katniss, though she’s focused on the road in front of her.

Katniss looks back, feeling Johanna’s eyes on her. Even though it’s nearly midnight, she can see Johanna’s eyes perfectly as they glint in the moonlight. “Yeah.” She feels a heaviness in her stomach when she keeps her eyes locked into Johanna’s—it’s almost too much to handle.

“Well, I’m glad I got to spend it with you.” Johanna says, focusing her eyes on the road in front of her. “And Peeta. He’s a good guy, Katniss.” A part of her feels bad for him, though she knows Katniss settled. Not that she was the perfect fit for her—she doesn’t want to flatter herself—but she knows Peeta has been a constant. A comfortable constant.

“Yeah.” Katniss concedes. “Thanks for dinner, by the way… Didn’t know you could cook.”

“The little I learned from my mother.” Johanna smiles as she looks at the ground, the sentence speaking volumes.

Katniss spots Sae’s hostel and slows her pace, not quite walking Johanna to the door. They stand in front of each other, breathing in the crisp air, their cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“I’m going to write Annie tonight… tell her we’ll be coming soon. Maybe a few days. You still up for it?”

“I don’t know…” Katniss shifts from foot to foot, nervously rolling on her ankles. “It’s been so long… I don’t know if I belo-“

“You belong. You’re welcome there.” Johanna says, ducking her head, trying to get Katniss to look at her in the eye. “You know Annie would be thrilled to see you.”

Katniss looks up into the starry sky, biting near the corner of her lip, trying not to cry. She doesn’t know why she feels the need to—she’s not upset, it’s just overwhelming.

“Maybe you could see your mom, too. Peeta said she’s there, right?”

“Yeah, she is.” Katniss sniffs the cool air into her nose, the moisture in her nose creating a sniffling noise.

“I don’t mean to push you…” Johanna begins, sensing that she may be upsetting Katniss. “I just want you to know you belong.”

“I know, I know. It’s okay.” She knows Annie wouldn’t care—it’s more about spending so much time with Johanna again, so soon. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I’ll let her know to expect me anyway.” Johanna says, her jaw beginning to shiver from the chill in the air. “I better go, it’s getting cold. Thank you for walking the whole way. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to.” Katniss says without missing a beat. She steps forward and closes the space between them, wrapping her arms around Johanna.

She doesn’t know why she does it—maybe it’s to simply feel something: a human form against her own, or a reminder that this wasn’t some alcohol influenced dream at Haymitch’s house, in a drunken stupor his kitchen floor.

Johanna hesitantly moves her arms around Katniss—one at her waist and the other at her back, holding her tight, feeling the ends of Katniss’ hair on the tips of her fingers, smelling the slight smell of rosemary in her hair.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Katniss says, her cheek against Johanna’s dark, thick hair.

Johanna’s body is near numb from the cold, but she can still feel the vibrations from Katniss’ chest when she talks. A fluttering moves to her core, suddenly feeling all too close to Katniss for comfort. She breathes in deep, heart skipping a beat, a tightness developing in her chest.

Katniss pulls back, her face hovering in front of Johanna’s, their breath mingling together in conjoined clouds. Katniss closes her eyes briefly, as if she might lean in, but she stops herself, putting her hands on Johanna’s arms, moving back.

“Good night. I’ll see you soon.”

“G’night.”Johanna waits in the road briefly as Katniss walks away from her, trying to steady her legs under her.

 

******

 

“You were gone for quite a while…” Peeta says when Katniss comes into their bedroom. “You could have taken the truck.”

“I know—I didn’t think it would be that cold. Thanks, though.” He’s always doing that, she thinks briefly— _trying to give me permission to do things_.

She undresses quickly, putting on her nightclothes and getting into bed with Peeta—usually she sneaks in without him noticing—but tonight was unlike the usual.

“You know, I haven’t seen you smile like that in years... maybe ever.” He remarks, smiling himself.

“Oh yeah?” Katniss says as she turns out the light and adjusts her body under the cool sheets.

“You should go, you know, to four. It might be good for you.” _For us_ , he thinks to himself. Peeta wonders if seeing her mother and Annie would change her mind about starting a family of her own. He knows deep down she may not, but he can’t help but wonder, hope.

“I told Johanna I’d think about it.” She feels a little dirty saying her name in front of him, as if she’s hiding something explicit from him.

“Good.” He says, wrapping an arm around Katniss just before drifting off to sleep—his hand making slight twitches as Katniss’ eyes stay open, looking out the window at the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to sincerely apologize for the lack of updates over the past few months. I've recently moved and started a full-time position and I'm still trying to balance writing in the mix! I appreciate your continued support :)


	8. Chapter 8

The air took on a bitter winter feel a few days after the dinner, coating the ground in a frost that wouldn’t seem to go away, even when the days warmed up to a tolerable temperature. Peeta had adopted several layers in the morning before heading to the bakery, admiring the way the budding sunlight made the world around him glisten with frozen dew. He was alone with his thoughts when he travelled to the bakery—not even the daily news played—just the sound of his thoughts and the rough motor of the truck whirring and shifting. He hoped Katniss truly thought about what he said and what Johanna had offered; he never thought he would see Johanna Mason again, but he was so grateful she was a presence in their life now. He saw her, almost, as a Godsend—someone to help renew Katniss’ idea of her own livelihood, to give her a feeling of purpose: vigor. He knows all too well how people can be manipulated and damaged, but he also knows of their resiliency.

**********

Katniss saw Johanna sporadically over the days that passed—seeing her in the town square briefly, afraid to be with her for much longer and face questions about visiting Annie. Though, her curiosity always got the best of her, this morning being no different.

“What are you getting?” Katniss snuck next to Johanna in the marketplace, stepping next to her swiftly—the sides of their upper arms brushing together in their jackets.

“Oh!” Johanna gasps, “You scared the shit out of me!”

Katniss can’t help but laugh at Johanna’s tendency to swear in public, whenever she pleases. It’s something she’s not used to seeing around here—she likes her unabashed quality.

Johanna is holding a small bouquet of bright orange and red mums, their blooms made up of thousands of tiny petals—petite and strong all at once.

“A gift for Haymitch and Effie for letting me stay with them for a few days.” Johanna turns her head back to the blossoms in her hand. “Okay, mostly Effie. I don’t think this is Haymitch’s color.”

Katniss doesn’t laugh at her joke, more concerned with the message. “You’re staying with them?”

“Oh, yeah… change of scenery and all, you know me.” Johanna looks away, looking at the rest of the marketplace, her face slightly fallen—not sad or upset, just distant, maybe guilty, but Katniss doesn’t know why.

“Right.” Katniss is curt, awkward; unsure what should happen next, or if she said something wrong. She regrets being drawn to Johanna.   
  
“Well, I sh-“

“Are you going over there tonight?” Johanna interrupts.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe.” Katniss feigns, looking away from Johanna and down at the small batches of flowers around them.

She spoke with Effie days ago when she invited her, but has been so ashamed of their last meeting she wasn’t sure she could manage an entire dinner with them. She remembers Effie’s words though—the fuel for her initial curiosity to saddle-up next to Johanna today: “I can barely stand them together—talking about their old haunts and drunken escapades from Games’ past. Thank goodness they are both clean and sober now, even if they are just as loud.” When she replays the conversation in her head, she can’t believe she didn’t catch on sooner that Johanna has been there the past few days, or, more importantly, the specifics of what brought Johanna here. But, what might be most blindingly obvious is that she seemed to miss was the exquisite plan: it has the sweet smell of Effie all over it.

“They’d love to have you.” Johanna says, looking in Katniss’ direction, leaning against her arm slightly, feeling a jolt of energy run through her body.

Katniss switches the basket onto her other side, pushing off Johanna faintly, letting her now-weakened arm fall next to Johanna’s, their knuckles brushing on the way down. She steps back and away from Johanna, suddenly unable to handle their proximity.

“I’ll go, I guess.” Katniss says quickly, looking briefly into Johanna’s eyes before scanning the marketplace further. Effie can have this one, she thinks.

“Good.” Johanna can feel herself getting hotter under her thick covering, needing to make an escape to the cold outdoor air soon. “I’ll, uh, see you tonight then.”

“Right, see you then.” She gives an awkward smile before turning and walking away, wishing she never let her body move to Johanna like a magnet.

**********

 _Damn curiosity,_ Katniss thought as she removed the keys from the ignition. She held the cold, jagged metal in her hands as she slumped back into her seat, puffing out a burst of warm, visible air from her cheeks. The truck had barely emitted any warmth getting to Haymitch’s house in the short ride, but it was better than showing up on their doorstep with a ruddy face she could barely feel—the cold wouldn’t let up—she couldn’t even imagine going to a sunny, seaside town soon. How one place in Panem could be warm when it was this frigid in twelve was inconceivable to her. Nearly unnatural.

Haymitch and Effie’s house stands in the beginnings of the forest looking like a glowing haven of warmth as the light from the inside cascades out of the windows and onto the ground, illuminating the world around her. The home, too, draws her in like a magnet, despite her stale feelings of embarrassment bubbling in her throat. From Johanna. From herself.

Katniss’ knuckles pound on the door with a force she didn’t anticipate, pinching her knuckles. She was never one for those metal door knockers, though.

“Oh Katniss, my darling!” Effie swings open the door, the light escaping from the house and onto the ground further, followed by the heat Katniss so longed for in the bitter cold. Effie’s hair is perfectly coiffed with a nearly-neon orange mum sticking out from behind her ear: Johanna went for the brighter ones, she decides.

Effie wraps as arm around Katniss and brings her inside, taking off her jacket before Katniss can even lift her arm to do so. “Let’s get you into the heat, shall we? It’s awful out there!”

She can’t seem to answer Effie when she spots Johanna in the kitchen next to the already-set table, picking at the hors d'oeuvres she assumes Effie had assembled so exquisitely. Johanna still has her finger in her mouth—her tongue flicking over her fingertip—savoring the last of the appetizer, when she turns to see Katniss. She clumsily wipes her fingers on her tight black pants and moves forward toward Katniss—the zipper pulls on her boots clang gently on the metal zippers with each step. She reaches out her arms and pulls Katniss in for an embrace.

“You came!”

The words come out as an excited whisper against Katniss’ ear, sending a shiver throughout her body, landing in between her legs.

“I said I would.” She can’t help but smile when she looks into Johanna’s eyes when she moves back. She feels a slight tinge of embarrassment for feeling so freely, but she remembers back to what Effie told her that mere week ago, _“The war is over, Katniss,”_ ; She needs to let herself feel again.

**********

It’s not until the second course is served that Katniss notices the detail Effie has put into this dinner, and the little changes that have been made throughout the years. She nearly forgets she isn’t drinking a light alcoholic beverage, but carbonated rosewater flavored with various flower petals—purely an Effie touch, no doubt. She scans the table quickly and notices that everyone is drinking it—not a drop of alcohol to be seen. It makes sense for Haymitch, of course, but it gives more insight to what Haymitch hinted at: Johanna, too, had the same problem he did. And, as Effie warned, when Haymitch and Johanna dig up the past—they don’t stop. At the very least, it’s entertaining, Katniss remarks to herself.

“Do you remember that night after training the recruits when we went out to the—uh—club?”

“He means strip joint.” Johanna chimes in, turning to Effie.

“Oh, please you two!” Effie says, learning back and rolling her eyes. “Do you _see_ what I mean, Katniss?” Her hand waving aimlessly in the air to punctuate her feelings on the matter.

Katniss can’t help but laugh at Effie’s exasperated expression, but looks eager to hear the story, despite Effie’s wishes.

“When was this?” Katniss rims her glass with a finger as she cocks her head at Haymitch and glances at Johanna. She feels like se might have had alcohol with how giddy she feels—her legs haven’t stopped trembling since she sat down, and she feels a surge of confidence and courage. Maybe rosewater is an aphrodisiac, she wonders.

“Oh Katniss, don’t encourage them!”

“About a year or so before your games,” Haymitch answers, “And Eff, it’s okay… It’s just fun!”

“Anyway,” Haymitch continues, “Finnick and I wanted to play a little trick on Johanna over here so we went over to this dancer,”

 “Stripper.” Johanna laughs, correcting him.

“Yeah—okay, _stripper_ , and paid her to give Johanna a lap dance. The look on your face…”

“My face?” Johanna asks, cocking her head to the left.

“What?!” Haymitch raises the glass to his lips.

“You thought it would get a rise out of me…” Johanna begins again, leaning back and crossing her arms. “But, if I remember correctly, you and Finnick were the ones with your jaws on the floor when you saw that I was enjoying it.”

Katniss’ teeth slide over her bottom lip before smirking at the verbal tousle between the two seemingly wildly different victors. The image Haymitch creates brings a pounding sensation between her thighs, though, she would have loved to see the surely ridiculous expressions on the men’s faces.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Haymitch nods and laughs, swirling the flavored water in his glass.

“She bought me drinks after that, y’know, with the money you gave her?”

Effie gives a charged, nervous glance at Katniss; even though she’s dealt with this for years, she still becomes nervous when alcohol is mentioned around Haymitch.

“You always knew how to pull from then on out.” Haymitch concedes, “You always had your pick to take home.”

Katniss looks at Effie again, a hunger and jealous feeling running through her veins, making her body pulse. Effie’s eyes steady her, as if they were waiting for her to look at, to calm.

“Eh, well,” Johanna says, leaning back and running her fingers through her short hair, “She wasn’t my type.” She locks eyes with Katniss over the table, albeit briefly, and a feeling brews up inside of her, bursting up to her throat, then tumbling down to the pit of her stomach.

**********

“I better get going… Sae doesn’t like late-comers, and it’s late enough as it is.”

Katniss glances at the illuminated clock—10:48. Peeta is probably sleeping by now, she thinks.

“Oh, dear, you really don’t have to go!” Effie says, rushing up from her chair to meet Johanna.

“No, really, Eff. I have an early morning and you’ve been gracious enough.” She leans in, puts a hand on Effie’s shoulder, and places a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Hey! Hands off, ya womanizer!” Haymitch gets up from his chair, pretending to land one of his feet into Johanna’s backside.

With her other hand, Johanna reaches around her back and raises her middle finger, wiggling it in a ‘come hither’ motion.

Effie, noticing the not-so-hidden gesture, moves slightly back from Johanna and rolls her eyes, tutting; secretly happy to be rid of their shenanigans, Katniss is sure about.

“See ya, Haymitch. It’s been great.” Haymitch gets up from his chair properly this time and grabs Johanna by the waist and hoists her up to nearly touch the high ceiling. Johanna’s squeal nearly drowns out Effie’s concerned tone, “Haymitch, your back!”

Katniss, observing the near-pantomime in front of her, can’t stop the smile on her face from growing. She misses that Johanna. Her banter. Their banter. So much has changed, but the core remains the same.

“Do you need a ride?” Katniss voice cuts through the squeals and pleas.

Haymitch puts Johanna down and she tries to quickly tame the hair he had so politely tousled onto her face.

“It’s gotten so cold… I don’t want you to have to walk.” She stuffs her hands into her pants pockets and rocks on her heels.

“Yeah, yeah. I would really appreciate it. Thanks.” She could say she was feeling breathless from Haymitch’s roughhousing, but she believes she would have the same reaction if Katniss were standing in front of her without Haymitch or Effie by her side. “L-let me just go get my things.”

Effie eyes Haymitch suggestively, raising an eyebrow. Effie thinks Katniss missed it, but she should be more aware—Effie trained _her_ to notice the little things, after all.

It still doesn’t stop warmth from rushing up to her cheeks, whether or not from Effie’s after-dinner tea. Why does she feel like she’s on a chaperoned first date?

**********

Katniss loads Johanna’s second case into the bed of the truck before latching the door shut.

“God damn, it’s cold!” Johanna wriggles in place next to the passenger’s side door in a futile attempt to keep warm.

“I’m working on it!” Katniss moves around to the driver’s side as quickly as possible and unlocks the doors. Johanna pulls at her handle and it snaps back at the door, refusing to unlatch.

“Damn door!” Katniss says over the clunky start of the engine. She reaches over to the door and unlocks it with her thumbprint instead.

Johanna practically jumps inside and slams the door shut in one swift movement, trying to seek refuge from the cold.

Katniss knows if she begins to drive the car that it will heat up faster, but, part of her wants to stay. The air will become warm soon enough, she thinks. The truck is rickety, but it does its job.

“Ohhhhh” Johanna moans out after a few moments, feeling the first burst of warmth on her fingertips.

The sound stirs Katniss and she looks over to her—her face illuminated by the dim blue glow from the half-illuminated dashboard. Her features look sharp in the light: nose, cheekbones, jaw—like choppy waves—though she does have a strong jaw, Katniss remembers, rubbing her fingertips and lips over it the once. She moves in closer to the vents as if to distract herself and rubs her hands in front of them, smirking a bit from the memory—a little laugh coming out of her mouth in a cloud of warmth.

Johanna looks at her, studying her fingers in front of the vents, how she moves her two hands together for warmth. It’s oddly erotic, Johanna thinks: even though she’s sitting, she can feel her legs start to go weak at the sight.

“I think I want to go with you."

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Katniss begins, “I think I need this.”

They exchange words without looking at each other, though their energy charges up the small space.

“Good. I’m glad. It’ll be good for us.” They meet each other’s eye. “I mean, for you and me both.”

Katniss gives a small smile and puts the car into drive, making their way to Sae’s—maybe slower than usual.

 

Johanna looks out the window with her head resting on her hand, watching the headlights dart in and out from between the tree trunks on the side of the road. She can feel her heart pound at the excitement, and the turn of events brings a smile to her face, which she tries to hide with her hand. Katniss doesn’t notice: focused on the road. She set out to make amends, and she was going to four whether or not Katniss came. She prepared herself to take things as they came—one day, one hour, one minute at a time. She couldn’t have expectations anymore; any expectation was a recipe for failure on more than one level—something Johanna might not be able to handle so newly sober. She fidgets her fingers on her lips, picking at and rubbing them before stuffing them in her jacket pockets, making small circles on the soft fabric inside. _Accept what we cannot change._ Circle. _Change the things we can._ Circle. _And don’t ruin a good thing._ Circle. Leave it to Johanna to put her mark on something age-old.

 

Katniss rolls to a stop in front of the four-story yellow building before saying a word, the hot air still blowing furiously from the vents, causing beads of sweat to form on her lower back. She turns them lower as she gets up the courage to ask Johanna what she meant that day in the woods; what had been adding up the entire week. As if she needed the explanation.

The sharp screech of the door’s hinges breaks Katniss’ concentration.

“Thanks.” Johanna jumps out, ready to shut the door before she remembers the vital information.

“Oh! If you still want to come tomorrow…”

“Yeah…” Katniss looks eager, making sure to look into Johanna’s eyes and smile, as if she or Johanna need any convincing.

“Train leaves at the _ungodly_ hour of 5:30 am.” She emphasizes the words in an Effie-like accent, pretending to be as posh as possible.

The time doesn’t faze Katniss, though—she doubts she’ll ever sleep tonight.

“I’ll be there.”

Johanna smiles before shutting the door and retrieving her cases from the bed of the truck.


	9. Chapter 9

The sun’s rays made their way up Katniss’ face, eventually across her slumbering eyes—the soft rose color comforting her before the strong morning sun forced her eyes open. The gentle rocking of the train lulled her to sleep hours ago, once she found a comfortable support on a bunched-up jacket and chilled window. The night, as she expected, was fitful—she was surprised she didn’t wake Peeta up with her constant tossing, turning, and fidgeting.

She looked around the carriage when her eyes adjusted, noticing the differences in the morning light. She could now see the metallic detail in the wallpaper, how bright the red upholstery truly was—without the presence of the soft night-light in the carriage.

Her eyes moved over to the figure in front of her: the scrunched up body of Johanna on the bench opposite her. Her knees pulled up and covered with a jacket, her body slightly angled to face the back of the bench, the back of her head gently rocking against the window. Katniss notices the book in her lap set face-down—the dark blue cover contrasting against the backing of the bench, the golden letters on the spine reflecting the new morning light. Though, she can’t make out the words. She moves her gaze to Johanna’s slack face and notices horn-rimmed glasses on the edge of her nose. They look so ancient, Katniss thinks—so unlike the image of Johanna she has in her head.

The train carriage door opens with a slight screech as the breakfast trolley stops by, rustling Johanna awake. Her confused, scrunched face makes Katniss smile—she looks so small on the bench, so unlike how she’s used to experiencing her.

The waiter brings their cart to them and locks it into place as Johanna fully comes-to, adjusting her body to sit forward, placing the book and jacket to her side.

“Your breakfast, ladies.”

“Thank you.” She says, sliding a billfold to the edge of the table.

“Morning.” Johanna says, shyly tucking away her delicate glasses.

“I didn’t know you had to wear glasses.” Katniss says, smirking as she butters her toast.

“Secret’s out—Sorry to shatter your image of me, brainless, but I’m not perfect.” Johanna pulls a compact out of her bag, wiping the sleep from her eyes and adjusts her make-up. Katniss watches her slender fingers move across her face before taking a bite of her breakfast. She somehow feels privileged to see this little ritual of Johanna’s. She wonders how her own face looks.

“How’d you sleep?” Johanna asks after putting away her compact, turning her focus to the wonderful display in front of her—it almost sickens her how much she missed this grandiose luxury.

“Fine—though I think I have a nice bump on my forehead leaning against the window.” Katniss absentmindedly touches her fingertips to her forehead. “And my neck hurts.”

Johanna gives out a small laugh through her bites of food. “Well, we did pass out on a train.”

“Eh, I needed the sleep.” Katniss shrugs.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?”

“No way… too much on my mind.” Katniss says, suddenly scared that Johanna will ask her to elaborate. But she doesn’t. Thankfully.

“Me too.” Johanna agrees with her instead. “I’m excited... I haven’t seen Annie in years.”

“Are you excited?” She continues, asking Katniss.

“Of course.” Katniss smiles absentmindedly at her plate before adjusting her gaze to Johanna.

“So, what made you decide to come?”

Katniss pauses, putting the food in her hand down on the porcelain plate beneath, thinking about her words calculatedly.

“I think I need to do something for myself.” It’s a simple truth, she thinks.

“What did Peeta say?”

“He encouraged me to go.” She says, taking another bite. “He was on board before I was...” She thinks of Peeta and Effie’s words—she hasn’t been happy in quite a while, and if Johanna is willing to listen to her and have fun, why not go? She doesn’t need to punish herself any more.

Something about his reaction seems off to Johanna, but she doesn’t question it.

“Plus,” Katniss continues, “I’ve never seen the ocean before.”

“No. Way.” Johanna says, putting her croissant down. “If I wasn’t already excited, I’m even more now. I’m totally throwing you in the ocean, Brainless.”

“I really am excited, though, no playing around.” She adds, her eyes glancing over Katniss’ outstretched hand resting on the table near her mug of coffee—she wants to reach over and hold her hand, rub circles over the top of her palm, run her thumb over her knuckles. She chastises herself for thinking those thoughts again—for getting too close. She repeats her own edited mantra in her head, _‘Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. And, to not fuck up a good thing.’_

“I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.”

 

**********

Annie greeted their arrival with a fantastic seafood dinner. Katniss was never one for the smell, but the taste was phenomenal to her—the salt, the acid, the freshness—was just what she needed after a draining day of travel.

Calder sat at the table with his eyes full of wonder at the two women, asking them question after question, avoiding eating the peas on his plate. His hair was red like Annie’s, but the rest of his appearance was straight from Finnick, his charm, too.

“Stop asking them such silly questions.” Annie said after a particularly long string, “And eat your peas!”

“Bleh!”

“You don’t like peas?” Johanna asks him as she stabs a few of her own onto her fork.

He shakes his head while nearly throwing his fork down on the plate.

“I kinda play a game whenever I have peas…” Johanna says, “Like I have a strong trident and I’m trying to hunt large pearls.”

Annie and Katniss glance at each other and smile, enjoying the wonder in the freckled-faced boy’s eyes as Johanna—one of his father’s best friends—shared a little secret of hers.

“Why don’t you try it?” Johanna says. “Try to see how many you can catch in your mouth in thirty seconds.”

Calder looks down at his fork—a now glistening trident Johanna is sure—and cautiously takes it in his small, chubby fingers.

“I know you’re just tricking me to eat these…” He says under his breath.

“Yeah, maybe I am… but it’s fun to play with your food.” Johanna smiles at him. “GO!”

His eyes dart from the fork, to Johanna, and to his plate before he takes the bait, sending peas sliding all over his plate before he shovels them into his mouth.

 

**********  


“Mommy?” Calder sleepily toddles out to the veranda where the three women are, enjoying a nighttime beverage and catching up, trying to not let their voices travel very far. But it seems to be too late for that.

Annie gets up to pick up her small bleary-eyed boy. “I guess this is our cue to head in for the night, ladies… I’ll be right back.”

Though the conversation has been nice, Katniss can’t help the numerous yawns that have interrupted her speech in the past hour or so.

“What a little treasure.” Johanna says, swirling her water and lemon in her wine tumbler, looking out to the water, which isn’t visible from their house, but she can definitely hear the waves hitting the shore and nearby jetty. She closes her eyes and rests her head back on the chair, enjoying the breeze coming off the ocean, a nice break from the earlier humidity.

Katniss takes a sip of wine from her own glass and takes advantage of the sight in front of her, letting her eyes run from Johanna’s elevated legs down to her pelvis, up to her rising and falling chest, her slender neck, and then to her peaceful face.

Katniss watches the older woman’s chest rise and fall to the sound of the crashing waves, feeling her chest sink into her body like an anchor cutting through currents. Katniss shifts her gaze when she notices Johanna rousing in her chair, just as Annie returns outside—not even bothering to shut the screen behind her.

“Finally got him settled,” Anne whispers, and exhales a sigh of relief, “I think he’s so excited still, he doesn’t want to listen when I tell him he’s tired.” A sharp yawn cuts through the end of Annie’s sentence.

“I would gladly take his place.” Johanna says, her eyes hooded with sleep.

“It _is_ nearly one in the morning—even later your time—Let me show you both to your room.”

 

Annie’s guest room was cozy—like something straight out of a seaside cottage Katniss read about in stories. Against the farthest wall was a double bed with an elegant white metal frame, and maybe the most inviting pillows Katniss had ever laid eyes on.

“I would blame it on really only expecting one of you until today, but this is all I have, unless someone would like to sleep on the comfiest couch in all of Four?”

Johanna plops down on the bed and kicks off her shoes: clearly not going anywhere.

“This is more than fine, Annie.” Katniss says, extending a hand to hold hers. “Thank you, really.”

Although the thoughts rush through her mind—her body needs sleep. She can ponder over how quickly she went from opening her door to Johanna Mason on her steps to getting in bed with her at another time, maybe over tomorrow’s breakfast.

“I’m so glad you decided to come.” Annie says, looking down at their hands together and smiling. “I’ve really missed you.”

She unlocks their hands and gives Katniss a brief hug before exiting the room.

“Goodnight, ladies. See you in the morning.”

“’Night” The women say in unison, though Johanna’s response is more of a long grunt than anything.

Katniss makes her way to the adjoining bathroom to change into her nightclothes before getting into bed. She didn’t expect it to be as warm as it was—even going slightly further south and even farther west made all the difference in the weather. She decides on a long, simple shirt to cover herself and enters the room again, arms crossed against her unsupported and exposed breasts.

Johanna is on the other side of the bed undressing when Katniss unlatches the bathroom door. The sight of her bare back causes Katniss to rethink and move back into the bathroom, but she stops herself. _‘She’s just changing—you’re the weird one, Everdeen.’_ Johanna looks over her shoulder and quickly slips a thin shirt over her body, leaving room for Katniss to peek at her black underwear. Katniss suddenly felt like the body-conscious teenager she never truly was as she crawled into bed. How could Johanna Mason have ever thought she was attractive?

The sheets are cool against her skin, her for-once smooth legs feel like satin against them. Her head sinks into the pillow under the hefty weight of the duvet, and she feels her body slowly relaxing into slumber. She soon feels Johanna’s body move next to hers, occasionally bumping her back or behind. Johanna, too, settles in quickly, trying to find a comfortable place for her arms. She settles for bending it next to Katniss’ back, her forearm flush against her back, her hand lying on the ends of Katniss’ waves, which she would normally worry in her fingers until she drifted off. But, for both of them, sleep comes unnaturally quickly tonight.  


**********

A few days pass before Annie hears that Katniss has never properly been to the beach.

“We need to change that! We’ll go tomorrow!” She said forcefully the night before, making Calder jump up and down with excitement.

“Can I go, can I go?!”

“Yes, yes, we’ll figure something out.” She says, smoothing over his hair.

Though it was rushing into autumn fairly quickly—no one in Four noticed. Thankfully, it was still warm enough to experience the beach for a few more days before the lower temperatures took over.

“It’s not ideal weather… but it’s warm enough.” Annie says, tossing a swimsuit to Katniss.

“Warm enough?” Katniss says incredulously, “It feels near paradise here compared to back home! We’ve had a pretty cold patch recently.”

“A cold patch?” Johanna loudly remarks. “More like taking an ice bath and calling it room temperature. It was fucking freezing!”

“Mommy she said the word you told me never to say!”

“Oh, shit.”

“That one too!” Mommy!”

“You could stop at any time.” Annie huffs out, trying not to laugh.

 

**********

The cloudless sky heated up the sand beautifully, Annie notices, as she slips off her sandals, letting her toes drift into the sand.

Katniss follows suit, imitating what the normal thing is to do.

Her feet burn on the sand at first—this was nothing like the sand in the arena. That sand was harder, colder, rougher, constantly damp with the atmosphere that was humid beyond belief. It was unnatural.

This sand, though, went in every nook and cranny in her toes and didn’t stick to her, heavy and damp. It was light, and, actually harder to walk through than she expected. She felt her calf muscles burning after a minute or so of walking, and she was breathing heavily, like she was walking up a steep hill to catch a hunt.

Annie stopped suddenly and looked around. “In between two monitors, nice flat area, and only a short walk to the water. Perfect.”

She moved back to put down the thin blanket and towels down, sending Katniss to move back awkwardly and knock her back into Johanna’s front. Her hands instinctively attach to Katniss’ hips to steady them both.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She says in almost a whisper in Katniss’ ear, her hands still firmly planted on her hips. She knows what she’s doing. And hates herself for it.

 

**********

After a few trips to get water, Calder picks Johanna to be his sandcastle architect for the day—giving her all the tools as he unveils his master plan.

“C’mon, “Annie says, reaching for Katniss’ hand, “It’s time.”

Katniss glances over to the vast ocean in front of her—the blue going on for miles and miles as the waves jump up and down, rolling over each other like children at a playground. And she knows what she means.

Johanna praises the boy for the tightly-packed pail as she watches the two women go off to the shore, making sure to watch for Katniss’ reaction to the water. Even though it’s not very warm out today, the sun has had time to warm up the ocean significantly over months—hopefully it won’t be too much of a shock, though she would like to see a hilarious reaction.

The women make their way onto the colder, wet, and packed sand near the shore, easing their toes into the area where the water runs over after the waves crash.

Katniss can feel her grip on Annie’s hand tightening—she doesn’t know why. She knows how to swim. She learned as a kid from day trips to the lakes and rivers nearby her home. But this was a new level. It was dangerously beautiful. A whole undiscovered world.

As the first cool wave rushed over her feet, her skin began to pucker and bump from the change of temperature. She noticed the foam and small bubbles forming on the edges of the sea, some, on her toes. It was a greenish-blue color, and obviously very pale—it reminded her of Prim’s eyes. She thinks they would still look the same, as peaceful, as stoic, as strong as ever.

“You were a really good sister to Prim.” Annie says, looking out into the ocean, sensing Katniss’ loss. “I saw it every day we were in Thirteen. I’m sorry you lost her.”

“I’m sorry you lost Finnick. He was a great man. And would have been a great father. He was like a brother to me.”

They look at each other for a moment, letting the mutual feeling pass between them. Annie gives Katniss’ hand a small squeeze as a response.

“Shall we?” Annie steps forward with a mischievous grin, now ankle deep in the water. No wonder Finnick fell for her.

Katniss extends her arm to hold onto Annie, but her feet are firmly planted.

She heard of people getting taken out to see by the dangerous currents; waves crashing into swimmers and taking them out in the undertow—unable to fight against the raging power. And yet, here they were—amongst many—willing to risk it all for a bit of fun, beauty, and adventure. But, she thought, it’s also a humble home for many—a nurturing mother, providing a safe home for its children, great and small. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be taken in after all.

Katniss moved her feet quickly, nearly jumping in next to Annie, and moving ahead of her, as a wave hit her thighs forcefully, sending her rocking backward, heels digging into the sand.

 

“Thought you guys would never get in!” Johanna calls out, running against the waves to get to them, Calder following behind.

“Yeah! It’s not like it’s gonna bite or somethin’!” He says, just before diving into a wave and swimming beyond it.

“You just let him go?”

“He knows where to stop.” Annie says, smiling, letting her hand finally drop from Katniss’. “He’s strong and smart. Like his dad.”

“Like you too.”

She smiles before diving into the wave, swimming after her son, onto play the day away.

Katniss smiles as she watches the pair swim to each other, bonded forever, stronger together. She watches how different Annie is now—or maybe, the person she always was, before the games. She admires Annie for refusing to crumble when Finnick died—instead, she brought new life into the world and gave herself a new one, too. She’s like a rock on a jetty—constantly beaten, but never shaken. She wished her own mother could be the same.

 

“Having fun?” Johanna says, moving along side of Katniss—both still with their feet on the ocean floor, bracing themselves against the waves.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

“It really is.” Johanna says, but she’s looking right into Katniss’ eyes.

“You know,” She continues, breaking the moment, “You won’t wobble so much if you go in further. The waves and undertow are stronger here… C’mon!”

Johanna turns around, making sure she keeps an eye on Katniss as she paddles her arms backward.

Katniss moves in forcefully, though she doesn’t have a choice: it’s a battle to get past the breaking point. But, she slowly swims out to Johanna, whose arms are out at her sides, treading water. The water gets colder as she goes further out, something she didn’t necessarily expect. She can feel the skin on her breasts tightening under her bathing suit, creating very visible points, she’s sure.

Johanna pulls Katniss closer to her when she comes within arms’ reach—a private celebration of sorts—she doesn’t really care for the logic behind it, she just wants to feel close to Katniss at this moment. Fuck the mantra, she thinks. She wraps her arms around Katniss’ waist, pulling her in closer.

Katniss still wades with her arms, but wraps her legs above Johanna’s hips, feeling her pelvis bump onto her torso occasionally as the waves create buoys of them. Johanna puts her chin in the crook between Katniss’ shoulder and neck, just below her ear.

“I’m glad you came.” Johanna says into Katniss’ neck.

Katniss can smell the salt on Johanna’s hair and skin as the hot breath touches her ear—it’s nearly too much to handle—why did she put herself in this position? Literally—her legs around Johanna, chest heavy and tight, heart pounding. But she can’t let go. She’s caught up in the undertow, surrendering to Johanna.

“I’m glad you asked.”

Johanna moves away from Katniss and moves her arms in the water, keeping them both afloat as they stay connected by the hips.

“You know I’m always right, brainless.” She absentmindedly licks a few droplets of saltwater on her lips as she looks into Katniss’ eyes.

Katniss cackles out into the open air and leans back in the water, her legs gripping slightly tighter against Johanna as she reaches back as she lies on the water. Johanna looks back at Annie and Calder just as Katniss runs her arm over the surface of the water, splashing Johanna in the face. She unhooks her legs from around Johanna, feeling the coolness of the water again and swims away as fast as she can, fleeing the imminent attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lack of updates! I'm still committed to this story... slowly but surely! ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments!


	10. Chapter 10

Katniss unfolds a scrap of paper in her hands, her legs dangling off the high bed like a child’s. She can still hear Johanna’s deep sleepy breaths, but still peeks over her shoulder to make sure she’s sound asleep as the numbers and words lay taut between her hands, open to the room.

Mornings in the Odair household are a whirlwind, and before she knows it, Johanna and Annie are seeing Calder off to the bus stop with Annie. Katniss finishes the last few bites of her breakfast begrudgingly; she has no appetite, but knows she will need the energy. She goes to the bathroom to get ready for the day before the two women come back home.

She turns the shower tap onto the hottest setting before turning it down slightly and shutting the curtain and undressing, her pajamas resting in a pile on the floor. She stops to look at herself in the mirror, her loose hair hanging about her face, falling just above her breasts.

Katniss thinks of her own childhood mornings as the water rushes over her—her mother and father seeing her off to school after a meager portion of luke-warm oatmeal. She’s amazed she’ll be seeing her in mere hours after so many years—since her wedding, in fact. She suddenly regrets setting this meeting up. It’s too much too soon. _When will you ever be ready, Everdeen?_ She thinks to herself before turning the tap off.

Annie and Johanna are sitting on the couch talking when Katniss returns, ready to leave. _Shit,_ she thinks. She didn’t plan what to say to them when she left. She’s barely said anything to them today, and they’ll know something is up.

The women are in the middle of laughing when Katniss decides to speak up. “I’m just going to walk around town, I’ll be back later.” She doesn’t even know why she’s lying to them.

They turn their attention to her and Johanna rises from the couch, “I’ll go with you, I haven’t seen much of the town center.”  She reaches out to touch Katniss’ hand absentmindedly but Katniss pulls away. Annie’s eyes shoot down to Johanna’s hand, sensing the tension between them, but she soon averts them, as if she’s just walked in on them in bed.

“No, it’s okay.” Katniss says. “I think I’ll go alone.” It didn’t come out the way she wanted it to, but it’s the truth. Johanna doesn’t necessarily look hurt, but the twitch in her brow shows that something isn’t right with Katniss.

 

**********

 

Katniss walks out of the cottage into the overcast weather, the air only a few degrees warmer than this morning. She pushes her hands into the pocket of her jacket—the air is a little too heavy and humid for it, but she’s glad she has a place to put her hands, instead of wringing them as she walks, like a perceived maniac.

She gets to the trolley stop too quickly, Katniss thinks. She hopes the ride to the hospital where her mother awaits is longer. Anything to avoid it. As if more time would make her ready.

The sun breaks through the clouds for a moment when she approaches the hospital. The glass walls extend so high that Katniss must crane her head up, shading her eyes from the sun’s rays. The building camouflages perfectly with the grayness of the sky, almost as if the structure isn’t there, as if she’s not on the ground. But she’s fully aware she’s there. She tries to ignore the random head turns, stares, and whispers, but they surface around her nonetheless. She hasn’t had people treat her like this in years—it’s a bit unnerving: the amount of attention after the comfort of Twelve, the comfort of familiar people. It’s like her first Games all over again. Some stand with their hands extended in the air, gesturing; others just stare wide-eyed; while a few glance, smile, and go on with their business. She’s thankful for those people. She’s thankful for them all, really.

“You didn’t tell us your daughter was visiting!” A voice calls out from a nearby table.

Katniss brings her head back down from the clouds and looks forward at the slightly graying woman in front of her. Her mother’s eyes look tired and red, as if she’s about to cry. Or, maybe she’s already crying. Katniss hates how red her face gets when she cries, but this small link to her mother makes her like it slightly. In fact, she’s willing to bet her eyes are now rimmed with red, too.

Katniss takes a clumsy step toward her mother, as if her ankles have weights on them. Her mother closes the gap between them, though; her arms open wide, ready to embrace her oldest daughter. The onlookers quickly continue what they were doing before, giving the women some privacy.

Her mother’s hands run from Katniss’ shoulders to her hands as she looks at her, tears brimming her eyes.

“You’ve grown so much.”

Katniss smiles and squeezes her mother’s hands.

“Come, let’s sit.” She guides Katniss to a nearby table to the side of the hospital entrance, where many family members, doctors, nurses, and various staff members have congregated. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing, mom. I’m fine.” Truth is, she’s far from it. What she means is: I’m not hungry.

“I’m too nervous for food.” Her mom says, smiling, attempting to break the ice. “I haven’t had an appetite all day.” She doesn’t stop touching Katniss, rubbing her thumb over her hand.

“How have you been?” She asks Katniss, who looks blankly at her, unsure of what to think, despite of imagining dozens of scenarios for today.

“G- uh, good.” She says, tongue-tied. “You?”

“Oh, you know, busy… hospital life!” Her voice falters a bit, and she laughs nervously to cover it up.

“I hear you’re head nurse, is that right?” She feels foolish asking these questions; they should have kept in touch, like mothers and daughters are supposed to. _But you were never normal with her_ , she reminds herself. _You’re not Prim_.

“Yeah. It’s been fantastic… I work with really great people.” She smiles and glances around her, distracted by the sudden movement of bodies into the hospital.

“Good.”

This is what she feared. Having nothing to say after four years.

“I’m happy for you.” What she means is, _I’m glad you left_. She suddenly feels a wave of guilt rush over her for thinking such thoughts. She returns the favor to her mother and takes her left hand in hers, gently stroking her knuckles with her thumb. Her hand rubs over something blunt, distracting her attention. Her eyes glance over a blue stone resting on a delicate golden band. Her eyes meet her mothers.

She laughs nervously. “We have a lot to talk about, Katniss.”

She’s not sure why she bothered coming, she thinks. This façade… if either of them cared about the other they would have kept in touch. Before she chastises herself too harshly, she reminds herself that her mother, too, could pick up the phone once in a while, or write. _Not that I really give a shit._ The thought comes rushing through her brain before she can really think about its impact. But it’s there. It’s an emotion she can’t deny. _I do give a shit_.

Katniss gives a small scoff. “Clearly.”

“Katniss…”

“No, mom, it’s great… really.” She _is_ happy for her when it comes down to it; that she was able to move on and find happiness with someone. But… just as she would be happy for anyone who was able to heal from their pain and loss after the war: just as she is happy for Annie. But this… this feels wrong. It feels fake, as if it’s just something they are obligated to do. This isn’t a friend she’s catching up with. _Things should be different_ , she thinks. _We should be different_.

She regrets coming to the hospital, for even visiting Four. Nothing will ever change between them, she reminds herself. She’s not exactly mad about it, just disappointed at her own expectations. Disappointed that she expected anything different.

A loud buzzing sound comes from a pin on her jacket collar, flashing blue as is vibrates.

“Shit.” She doesn’t think she’s ever heard her mom swear.

“I need to go. Emergency.” Her mother rises from the table. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk soon.”

“Of course.” Katniss knows they probably won’t, thought. It’s not that she’s full of bullshit, but if the opportunity hasn’t arisen before today, it most likely won’t. They will probably go on with their lives, occasionally checking in with each other like this.

Her mother leaves as quickly as she entered, and Katniss can’t bear to stick around any longer. She walks back to the trolley station, hands back in her pockets, tears brimming her lower eyelids.

 

**********

 

She walks to the beach just past Annie’s house when she comes off the trolley. Only an hour or so has passed, and she can’t bear to go back. She takes her shoes off as she reaches the sand, letting her toes sink into the coolness below the surface. She walks to where tide rolls in and toes her way into the water. The sun hasn’t had time to make the water or her body warm like it did yesterday, but it doesn’t stop her from walking into it further, drenching the bottoms of her pants. She looks out into the horizon, watching ferries and fishing boats go back and forth. Nothing still, constantly moving. _What the fuck am I doing?_ She thinks, walking up to her knees.

“Hey, Brainless, you’re supposed to take your clothes off _before_ you go into the water.” Johanna’s voice appears behind her suddenly, startling her pondering brain, causing her to jump in her place. “Plus, get the fuck out of there, it’s freezing today.”

“Fuck, Johanna!” Katniss walks out of the water, meeting Johanna on the sand. “How long have you been there?”

“Only a second, I swear. I was just walking around.” Johanna can see something is up, but doesn’t want to push it. “How was it exploring the town?”

“I visited my mom.”

 _Well, that was easy_ , Johanna thinks. “And?”

“Same as always. Short and semi-sweet.”

Johanna places an arm around Katniss, bringing her in closer. Based on her mood now and past conversations, she can tell it wasn’t the best of interactions.

“Sorry.” Is all she can muster.

“Not your fault.” A single tear rolls down Katniss’ face. “It’s mine for expecting anything else.” She doesn’t even know why she’s crying, really. This isn’t something that bothers her on a daily basis, even a monthly or yearly basis. She settles for the fact that it’s everything and nothing. All at once.

“Well, I may have something that will make you happy…” Johanna trails off, still holding Katniss.

“You found a way for me to not feel anything ever again?”

She laughs, “Not that good. But it might help you relax.”

“Yeah?”

“I originally booked a cabin for half my stay… it’s about an hour North, near a lake. Nice and secluded… just in case I overstayed my welcome.”

Quiet sounds nice to Katniss at this moment, and she’s not sure she can stay with Calder much longer. He’s sweet, but needs an awful lot of attention. She doesn’t know how Annie does it.

“It might be what you need right now.” Johanna adds.

Katniss turns and smiles. Maybe it will have everything she’s ever needed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm still committed to this story, y'all! Sorry for leaving you hanging.

Johanna looks over to the woman in the passengers’ seat to the side of her. The sun shines through the window just under her closed eyes, her forehead wedged against the cool window. She stopped the music soon after Katniss fell asleep during their drive up to the cabin on the lake, knowing she has been especially distracted and tired lately. The sleep came to her easily, Johanna thinks.

She looks back to the road and veers slightly back to the center of the lane—no one else has come around for miles, but, _better safe than road kill_ , she thinks.

Johanna takes in a sharp breath; her tight chest filling up until it hurts. She doesn’t remember holding her breath—but, who really remembers breathing, she thinks, shaking her head. She wishes she could be different around Katniss, but something draws her to her time and time again. A feeling of regret creeps up—inviting her here, making her feel more sadness than she already felt. What kind of friend does that? _Someone who doesn’t want to really be friends_. She shakes her head again, focusing on the curving road and beautiful landscape in front of her—the trees taller and the terrain more hilly as they move farther away from the coast. The sun darts in and out from behind the trees, flashing on Katniss’ closed eyes, disturbing her light sleep. She moves her face slightly upward before opening her eyes and focusing on the environment around her, remembering where she is.

“Sleep well?”

Katniss makes a sound similar to a guffaw, and moves her hand to her forehead, rubbing the sore spot. “As good as sleeping against glass in a moving car could be.”

Johanna smiles.

“No offense, of course.” Katniss adds, rubbing a kink in her neck as she turns to look at Johanna.

“None taken, brainless.” Johanna gives her a quick glance as she turns into a curve in the road, replacing her gaze with her hand on Katniss’, rubbing a soft circle on the top of her palm.

If this were a week ago, Katniss thinks, she doesn’t think she would stay still—but now, Johanna’s hand on hers gives her a sense of security. She turns her hand around and intertwines her fingers in Johanna’s now, hoping briefly, that it isn’t a false sense.

Despite her previous worries, Johanna doesn’t think too much about her unplanned movement, and they stay intertwined for nearly an hour before they reach the lakeside.

Katniss leans forward in her seat, trying to see further down the rough road. The sun is beating down now in it’s just after noon positioning, but the tall, needled trees block it near completely. Soon, she spots a clearing with a small, but sturdy cabin in the center. It looks old-fashioned, like something out of the Old World—big, strong trunks connected together and stacked to make walls. The roof is steep and green from moss and pollen in some areas, but a chimney shoots out of the center, with deep red brick.

Johanna closes the door while looking up at the tall trees and the sky. “Wow.”

Katniss, too, looks around. “Wow is right. Nice work.” She says, glancing over the car at Johanna, smiling.

Katniss moves to the back of the car to retrieve her luggage when Johanna stops her.

“Wait—” She moves over to Katniss’ side of the car and shuts the door Katniss has opened.

“Close your eyes.”

“What are you doing?” Katniss gives a nervous laugh before submitting to Johanna’s whims. She flutters her eyes closed and tries not to open them, though the bright sun still beats down on her lids, illuminating them.

The dull pink suddenly disappears when Johanna’s hands move over her eyes, blocking out the light completely.

Johanna moves her body close to Katniss’ as she covers her eyes: her front brushing up against Katniss’ back occasionally.

“Walk.” Johanna commands in a near whisper. She can feel Katniss’ cheeks rise into a smile, which makes her warm all over. She steps forward, signaling Katniss to do the same.

“This is how it ends isn’t it?” Katniss says. “Not in some battle, not years ago with Snow—instead, you, luring me to a huge pit.”

“Just trust me, Brainless.”

“That’s exactly what someone luring me to my death would say.”

Johanna sighs as they round the cabin, getting to the surprise. It’s more beautiful than what was described, as she can now see.

“Don’t pull.” Johanna reminds.

“I trust you.” Katniss says, in all seriousness.

Katniss feels the surface of the ground change underneath her—something not as solid. Wood, maybe. She can feel it give underneath her weight slightly.

“Ready?”

“Get your hands off me.” Katniss laughs, and adds, “Yes” in a near whisper.

Johanna lowers her hands, letting the sight unfold in front of her.

Katniss looks upon the view in front of her—a large calm lake stretching out around the bend. They are near the end of it, the lake curving to the side of their land. The closest cabin can be seen on the other side of the lake—though she’s not sure if anyone is even there. A mountain on the far side of the lake juts up steeply above the surface, trees extending upward to the sky, though its height doesn’t block the bright sun from coming down, making the lake glitter with the slight movements of the water.

She moves down on the dock, her eyes focusing on the landscape in front of her. She doesn’t see the slightly raised plank in front of her, which catches on her daze-induced dragging feet. She reaches out to Johanna to regain her balance—Johanna, whose eyes haven’t left Katniss, reaches her arm to her, feeling the tight grasp around her bicep.

“It’s a wonder you ever made it out of the arena.” Johanna laughs, albeit a bit nervously.

Katniss smirks at the joke, but has her gaze on the scenery still. Her arm drops from Johanna’s upper arm to her hand. Johanna lets it linger there before giving it a tight squeeze and letting go, moving down to sit on the dock, toeing off her shoes.

Katniss joins her, dipping her feet into the cool water—made all the more cooler by the shade around them.

“Thank you.” Katniss says, giving another glance around the lake before finally looking at Johanna, then back to the lake. “It’s beautiful.”

For a few minutes, the only sounds around them were the gentle bubblings of creatures nearby, and the movement of their feet in the water. A light breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees around them joins Katniss when she breaks the safe silence between them.

“Do you remember that day we snuck out to hunt and you taught me how to throw an ax?”

“Of course,” Johanna says, looking down at their hands, placed next to each other, gripping the edge of the dock. “It was a beautiful day.”

“I bought an ax a few years ago to do target practice.” Katniss sticks her toes out from the water, then submerges them again. “Helps me get some shit out when I need to.”

“You feel like you have to do that a lot?”

“Yeah.”

A moment of silence. Both women look out into the water, watching two cranes rise and fall to the water’s surface.

“You’re not the only one that learned that day… you taught me, remember?” Johanna can’t help but smirk at the memory.

How could she forget such a day? Katniss thinks. She remembers the rough feeling blanket underneath them, their faces close together—Johanna under the weight of her, her core throbbing—even now. She remembers holding Johanna’s arm back on the bowstring, feeling her body heat—suspended in time.

“With my bow?” She finally asks.

“Yeah.” Johanna says, still smirking. “I wish I could say I bought my own and did something else to work my issues out…” She trails off. “But I loved that day.” She remembers now the way the sun shone through the leaves of the trees and danced on Katniss’ face, illuminating all the hidden colors in her eyes.

She remembers the nights following—the night of Finnick and Annie’s wedding—how they fell into each other so perfectly. And then never again.

A nearby fish jumps out from under the surface, breaking Katniss away from her own thoughts with a sharp intake of breath.

They both sit there afterward, moving their feet back and forth, enjoying the cool magnificence of the world around them.

“I’ve missed you.” Johanna finally says. She didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did. Well, in a way she did, she thinks.

“Why did you wait so long? Why did you leave?”

Johanna pulls her feet out from the water and pulls her knees up to her chest. “I guess, in the end, I was selfish.” Johanna looks down, pensive. “I didn’t know what to do anymore. I didn’t have a place.” She wipes at the water droplets on her ankles. “I lost Finnick. He was the closest thing I had to family there… I felt like I didn’t have anyone to fall back on, like I wasn’t going to fit in anywhere.”

“What do you mean?” Katniss asks, confused.

“You seemed to have a place, responsibility, something nice to look forward to. I had nothing. I felt so disgusting in my own skin—no one needed me anymore. And we were grieving. It just…”

“Wasn’t the right time?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Johanna can feel tears prickling at her eyelids. She didn’t feel strong enough, so she ran. Ran at the expense of hurting Katniss—she couldn’t be there for her anyway, she reasoned. Then, or maybe ever.  “I didn’t really know where to go. I walked to the train station and suddenly I said I wanted to go back home.” She wipes a tear from just below her eyes. “I didn’t even know what was there. But it was the only thing that felt somewhat normal.”

“But I needed you.” Katniss’ voice is stern—not mean—and heavy. She looks over to Johanna, who now peers down at their hands on the dock, again.

“I needed you so badly. I went into your room to see you: just to cry over everything, just to talk to you… But you were gone.” She remembers going into her room and searching through her things, and smelling her pillow before crashing to the floor, sobbing. “Then Peeta came. He held me there on your bed for a long time.”

“He’s a good man.” Johanna says, sincerely.

“Even if he knows he’s playing second fiddle.” But Katniss stops there. The tension grows between them; they both know who has been first the whole time.

 

The wind begins to pick up over the lake as their conversation winds down, and the clouds roll in from behind the mountain.

“We should probably head in.” Johanna says, smiling. She turns to Katniss and looks her up and down when she gets up. She holds out her hand for Katniss to grab and she looks up at her, waveringly. “I’m here for you now. And I won’t go if you don’t want me to.” It’s heavy, she thinks, but honest.

 

***********

 

“So, what did you do when you went back home?” Katniss asks while reaching over the table for a slice of cheese.

Johanna gives a loud, abrupt laugh. “If what you mean is, ‘How did you become an alcoholic?’ Then I’ll tell you…”

“No—It’s not just—I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. It’s just part of it; part of my life.”

Johanna pauses to listen to the crickets sing outside before she begins.

“I helped rebuild. First, at my own home, then around the district. Nearly everything was gone—especially around the center of town—most of the victor’s homes were left untouched, though some were damaged from the bombings. My house was fine, aside from debris from attacks and a couple of broken windows. I made it out OK, compared to most.”

Johanna takes a drink from her glass—the ice clinging as she picks it up and sets it down. She plays with the condensation that is left on the table.

“I started gardening, at first.”

Katniss tries to hold back a protruding smile: she can’t imagine the Johanna she knew then doing something that needed such patience and gentle care. “Why?” Katniss asks.

“My mother had a garden growing up—she used to spend hours outside, and I would help, occasionally. It was some of the best memories I had with her.” She pauses, remembering how her father had destroyed it one night in a fit of rage—unwillingly drying out from drugs and angry at the world. After watching her mother’s hard work be ripped to shreds and strewn along the yard—her mother, inspecting the plants to see if any of the roots were still intact, crying as her father raged on inside the house—she hated him, in that moment. “It was a labor of love.”

“And then I met a volunteer at a bar. Natalie. It was a weird, intense relationship from the beginning… at first, we only seemed to meet at that bar. We would drink a lot, night after night, until we were both stumbling around—her with her arm around my waist and her face close to my ear, telling me how much she wanted to feel me inside of her. So… I did. We did.  It was an addicting thing.” Johanna takes another drink. A memory of Natalie going down on her flashes into her memory—her thick, dark hair clutched in Johanna’s hands. She remembers briefly thinking of Katniss, and coming hard. “She would leave by the time I got up, but we’d always see each other again that same day, at night. It became this co-dependent dance; we felt like we couldn’t live without the other, and, of course, without the booze. That was really the only thing we had in common.”

“Then, as you could suspect, with two addicts in a needy relationship, things got aggressive. She started holding things over me, and becoming very angry when she drank. And I had enough. Even though I was sloshed most of the time, I still knew when I was being abused, y’know?”

_She remembers bumping into an old childhood friend in the bar, early one evening. They made small-talk, and shared a drink together, as the girl mentioned she was visiting her parents—after a war, anyone who you recognize from the past, it’s like something of a miracle. Natalie came in the bar later that evening, already a few drinks in, and began to question Johanna’s motives, first, by yanking her arm. “Where have you been?!” she asks, as if Johanna was supposed to be anywhere with her._

_“Sorry, excuse me. Excuse_ us _.” Johanna still has her wits about her to be polite, though she and her old friend have also had a couple of drinks by then. She gets pulled outside by the arm._

_“Ow! What the—“_

_“Who the fuck is she?!” Natalie demands to know._

_“Some girl I knew as a kid! Jeez…” Johanna rubs her sore arm._

_  
Well, you should tell her about us so she stops flirting with you.” Before she can even comprehend what “us” even meant to her, Johanna shoulder-checks the girl and begins to walk home, furiously._

_She can hear Natalie’s clobbering footsteps several yards behind her own, which are quickly joined by rapid-fire screams aimed at Johanna. ‘Don’t you fucking love me?!’ ‘Aren’t I enough?!’ ‘I’m going to jump off the fucking bridge if you don’t stop right now!’ But Johanna doesn’t stop. She couldn’t care less. When she reaches her home, she swings open the door and slams it shut behind her, knowing Natalie is close behind. Hopefully she’ll get the message. She walks upstairs to her bedroom and plops herself down on her bed and slings her arm over her eyes as her body feels like it spins under the darkness of her eyelids. Her attempt at slumber is broken when she feels a sharp slap on her face—I guess she didn’t get the message after all, Johanna thinks_

_“Did you hear what I said?!”_

_“You need to leave me alone and calm down.”_

_“Or what?”_

_“Or, you need to just Get. The fuck. Out of my house!” Johanna finally raises her voice._

_“Just like that, huh?” Natalie scoffs. “Willing to drop me? You’re fucking nothing without me. You wouldn’t be anywhere without me.” Johanna won’t let herself hear it or get mad—it’s as if this girl isn’t familiar with the fact that she’s killed multiple times before._

_She feels another hit to her body, this time to her stomach—the pain radiating throughout her body. Johanna springs up, and reaches for the girl’s neck with her hand. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Johanna screams before letting her grip go by nearly pushing Natalie down the stairs._

Katniss looks at her from across the table—she can tell Johanna has a lot going on in her head right now, so much so, she kind of regrets bringing it up. She can see the pieces coming together though, as she rims her finger along the top of her thin glass, concentrating on it when looking at Johanna becomes too much.

She thinks of the mundane pattern of her life—her submissive acceptance because things were never _that bad_. And, out of everyone around her, Peeta was the best person she could have asked for. He was everything for her—or, at least, he tried to be.

“I hope you didn’t let her push you around.” Katniss finally says. She can’t help but smirk at the thought of someone trying to mess with Johanna. What a sorry person they would be.

“Oh yeah… Not for long. She left seven when I kicked her out.” She finally looks at Katniss, and then looks away just as quickly. “But I didn’t leave, and alcohol was always there.”

“Night after night, I sat with my bottle of whisky and thought about anything and everything. I thought of Haymitch a lot—I thought he could relate… so that’s kind of how it all started. We wrote letters to each other while shitfaced, and we helped each other. He’s like a brother to me.”

Ugh, Haymitch. Katniss thinks. She remembers she’s supposed to be pissed at him—her secret-keeper—for not doing his job. Though, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t happy to be merely a foot away from Johanna right now.

“So, what made you finally change?” Katniss asks.

“Doing the same thing, day-in, day-out, year-in, year-out. Drinking, sleeping around, and letting everything go to shit. Alcohol wasn’t for fun anymore—it became a necessity. And one night, I ripped up my garden in anger. A garden I grew in memory of my mom. It was like feeling her die all over again.” Johanna pauses, feeling tears budding at her eyelids before she regains her composure. “I just realized I needed to change my life. I had lost so much I could have had if I just thought differently. I knew I was stronger than it all.”

“You are.”

The women both smile at each other, and Johanna feels her chest tighten as she looks into Katniss’ eyes.

She looks away to the projecting clock—“2:13 am?! Shit. If we want to make it to the waterfall tomorrow we need to get a head start.”

“The what?!”

“Annie told me about a great place… thought we could go. I mean, if you want to.”

Katniss’ face brightens up even through the previous dour mood and tiredness. She can’t believe Johanna has put so much thought into this trip. For her. She bites her bottom lip and nods to Johanna.

Katniss soon slithers her way into the tightly tucked sheets. She thinks of Peeta briefly, and hopes he’s OK back home… but her thoughts run back to Johanna: her thoughtfulness, her struggle, her beauty, and their past. She thinks of her once smooth skin gliding against her own, and wonders if it’s the same. Her mind travels to herself under Johanna, her nude frame suspended over her own as she drifts off.


	12. Chapter 12

Johanna’s knuckles knocked on Katniss’ door clumsily, weaker than she meant to. She pauses for a moment then raps her knuckles against the light wood, more confidently this time.

 No answer.

She notices with her second knock that the door isn’t actually latched shut as it looked previously. She pushes it gently with the pads of her fingertips, cautious and quiet, like a hunter. No, an observer. A visitor. A tourist. But, maybe she could stay, she thinks.

The white bedding seems to glow in the direct sunlight pouring in, illuminated like a magical orb, and as blinding as a fresh, thick layer of snow on a clear winter morning. It is grounded, however, by Johanna’s second sight—Katniss’ bare, tanned back in the middle of the smooth white. It looks different than when she last saw it; she looks more womanly now, she thinks—a bit smoother around the edges, in a way—with slightly wider frame, a more distinct curve to her waist and hips.

Johanna takes a step forward, the old floorboards creaking under her weight. Katniss stirs and turns over, making sure to move the sheets up as to not expose herself.

“Thought that was you.”

“Sorry, just came to wake you.”

Katniss pushes herself up on an elbow, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a loose fist. “It’s good.” She smiles.

 

**********

 

Katniss looked up from the trail path into the light streaming down between the leaves of the tall trees. It’s a good day for this, she remarks to herself: it’s getting hot. She can feel the sweat pool on her lower back. Whatever water Johanna promised her—after she first complained about the heat—better be coming soon.

“Annie said once we see this, we’re close.” Johanna stops, slightly out of breath, pointing up to a steep, rocky hill.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It had been a long time since Katniss had done something so physical for this long; traipsing in the slightly hilly woods and carrying her kill back home seemed like nothing now.

“I promise it’s worth it.” Johanna extends her arm and hand out to Katniss.

“I believe you.” Katniss gives an exaggerated eye-roll and a sharp laugh, taking Johanna’s clammy hand. Johanna leads Katniss in front of her, helping each other navigate the large boulders in front of them.

“Shit!” Katniss hits the ground harder than she would have liked, and Johanna feels her hand being pulled down, nearly followed by the rest of her body. Nearly. She keeps her footing, and stabilizes Katniss.

“You okay?”

Katniss looks down and sees her left foot wedged in between three boulders, with a long, yet thin, gash on her ankle.

“I’ll be fine.” Johanna leads her to stand, and Katniss tries to move forward and out of the crevice, but her foot is a bit more wedged than she previously thought. “Or not…”

“Stay still,” Johanna says. “Let me try something.” Katniss leans her body against a nearby boulder, while Johanna squats under her, looking at the crevice. She notices the small drops of blood on her shoe and resists the urge to rub her thumb over the slight gash, as if she had a healing touch. She takes her water flask out of her pack and soaks Katniss’ foot and the surrounding area, then places her hands on either side of the affected foot and pulls rather aggressively. Her foot comes out easily with an almost cartoonish, squeaking sound effect.

Johanna stands up, closer to Katniss’ face than she wants to be, but is immediately trapped by Katniss herself, holding onto her shoulders to steady herself as she stretches her ankle before they continue. Johanna can see the beads of sweat around Katniss’ hairline, and when Katniss looks up and into her eyes, Johanna turns her body away. It’s too much.

When they hear the pounding of the waterfall from dozens of yards away, the women look at each other, Johanna giving her crooked smirk, and Katniss dramatically raising her eyebrows a couple of times, turning Johanna’s crooked smirk into a full-blown laugh.

When the lake and falls come into sight, Katniss drops her pack and reaches for her top in one swoop, already reaching for the button of her pants before Johanna can even get next to her. She kicks off her clothes to the side of the path and runs to the lakes edge, diving in without a pause. Johanna watches her from the path, still, and admires her enthusiasm and courage. She doesn’t know if she could ever be as ambitious or enthusiastic. She puts her pack down and undresses slowly, watching Katniss bob up and under the surface of the water. She walks over to the water’s edge, meeting Katniss’ outstretched arm, water droplets falling from her fingertips onto the surface of the water, making a delicate melody to join the careening sounds of the falls. She takes Katniss’ cold hand into her own and wades in—slow and steady. Katniss can feel the grip of Johanna’s fingers tighten as they go further in—she knows she is more than capable of handling this—but, everyone needs some support now and then. And, anyway, she thinks, the water _is_ fucking freezing.

Without warning, Johanna unbuckles her knees and lets her body fall under the surface, letting the crisp water fill her to the brim. She opens her eyes underneath the shallow water to see the sun’s rays making a magical, fluttering light show on the pebbly lake bottom. She also sees Katniss’ other hand break the surface of the water to hold onto the other side of her hand, to grab her, the bubbles shooting down then bobbing up in between their arms and her face. The sight makes the corners of her mouth perk up, but she keeps her lips tight in the clear water. She pushes herself up again, shooting up through the surface before Katniss can even really realize what happened.

“Scared I was going to drown, brainless?” Johanna cocks an eyebrow at Katniss—clearly testing her.

Katniss doesn’t even respond. At least, not audibly. Instead, she leaps forward and dives in, making sure to make a scene behind her, kicking her hardest to leave Johanna surrounded by a torrent of splashes—unable to really decipher where Katniss went.

“Oh, you will _so_ pay for that, brainless!” Johanna jumps in after her, smiling when she hears Katniss squeak with excitement and splash off again.

 

**********

 

The waterfall is smaller than what Johanna imagined—just as tall, maybe a little taller, but thinner. Its dimensions, however, don’t stop her from wading up and down, staring at it in awe. Why should nature make something like that? Why should the Earth be so disjointed from itself? And yet, the water stays and perseveres, holding the Earth together, giving it a connection, a purpose.

Johanna is pulled from her thoughts when she sees the younger woman’s head bob out from just underneath the plummeting falls, making her way to Johanna. When she reaches her, Katniss doesn’t offer a hand, or any such pretense, but instead, grabs Johanna’s upper arm with a devious grin on her face, “You have _got_ to see this.”

“If you go under and swim far enough, you can barely feel the water from above,” Katniss cautions, “Unless you want to feel like you got punched in the nose.” She takes a deep breath and demonstrates for Johanna, popping up on the other side of the falls, which is dark and sparkling all at once. “C’mon, Mason!”

Johanna can see Katniss through the breaks in the water, her mischievous stare prodding at Johanna’s chest, her cocked smirk giving Johanna a sinking feeling in her chest, as if her heart ran, swam, dove, after Katniss. She gasps in air before going under, keeping eye contact with Katniss when the water will allow it, until she hits the surface, closing her eyes, Katniss’ gaze imprinted on her eyelids.

When she comes up from the surface moments later, Katniss greets her from above, on a rock ledge of sorts. Her ankles are crossed and still in the water, the mist from the falls creating a glow in the cascading light around her. Katniss spreads her legs and reaches down to Johanna, who gives her own hands willingly. Katniss gives Johanna a lift as she pushes up from the rocks underneath, joining her on the ledge. They unclasp their hands and sit next to each other, admiring the falls in front of them—it’s almost deafeningly loud, but Johanna can feel Katniss’ hand over her own, her thumb rubbing lazy lines back and forth. She wonders if she knows she’s doing it—the look on her face doesn’t specify, and, when it comes down to it, Johanna doesn’t care to disturb her.

It’s Katniss, though, who moves first, turning around and crouching on her feet, moving forward, waving Johanna to follow her. And that’s when Johanna noticed the cave Katniss is walking into. It’s shallow, Johanna notices, when Katniss stops. It’s more of an alcove than a cave, she thinks, but it’s covered in drawings and graffiti of sorts: initials, handprints, hearts, and a faded hand-painted mockingjay logo on the ceiling. How anyone managed to get paint through here, she wonders, is another story altogether.

Katniss runs her hands over the drawings, as if she can feel each persons’ presence—their memory—in the figures, letters, and shapes on the rock. She traces a heart that has initials in them:

ES + AM  
forever

She pauses on the plus sign, her index finger on its center, and turns to look at Johanna. Johanna looks at Katniss, her heart sinking back to that familiar place in her chest, and glances at the words underneath Katniss’ slender fingers. She picks up a nearby rock with a pointed edge and begins work on her own mark. She grinds the rock a couple of times on the rock ground, making sure it can scratch enough to make a lasting imprint.

Katniss fully turns her body and moves closer to Johanna’s side of the alcove to see what she is up to.

KE + JM  
were here!!

She adds a mouth to the exclamation mark points as her final mark.

“Nice touch,” Katniss scoffs out, “ _very sweet_.”

“Yeah,” Johanna begins, “brainless was too long to write with this…”

Katniss fake gasps and elbows Johanna forcefully to the side—hard enough that Johanna has to brace herself with her arm on the cold rock below. “Ow!”

“Let’s get going, ya’ nutjob, I’m getting hungry,” Katniss bemoans.

“Nutjob, huh? Yeah… brainless is still better.” Johanna laughs.

“Get going before I drown you.”

Johanna can’t help but smile.

 

**********

 

Johanna lay on the blanket in the back yard of the cabin near the dock, looking up at the stars. She puts her hand on her stomach, feeling it gurgle and bubble as it digests their light dinner. She is so thankful for dark places like these: ones where she can relax and listen and watch nature move around and above her. She can hear Katniss’ footsteps in the grass  before she announces herself by setting herself on the blanket, positioning herself next to Johanna. Johanna moves over slightly, without a word.

Katniss looks up at the sky, and turns her head to see Johanna on the blanket next to her—the slope of her nose and cheeks illuminated by the moon shining in the clear night sky. Johanna keeps her eyes on the sky, watching the stars flicker millions of miles away, still trying even though it can feel the end is near. Katniss adjusts her gaze back to the sky and slides her hand into Johanna’s, her heart pounding in her chest. She’s thankful it’s dark so Johanna can’t see it. But she can feel it against her fingers; Johanna feels Katniss’ pulse radiating through her hand, making her own elevate and move throughout her body.

“Do you still love me?” Katniss asks, abruptly.

Her heart stops pumping so vigorously, and she begins to calm her breathing. A moment passes, and she wonders if she even said it out loud. She continues to look up at the sky and begins to rub Johanna’s hand with her thumb, just as she did earlier in the day, but, now she is all the more aware of her body and actions. She sees a shooting star and closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath, extending her belly.

“I want you. In any way possible.” Johanna finally says.

Katniss lets out her breath slowly through her nose and lets her head lull towards Johanna.

“I want you in my life,” Johanna continues, “But if this isn’t… whatever it is, whatever it isn’t… I don’t want to lose you again.” It’s not exactly true, and Johanna knows it—but right now, in this moment, she doesn’t want to lose Katniss again. She can’t imagine another seven years without her in her life. Her head moves to face Katniss’.

“Good.” Is all Katniss says. And they both look up into the night sky, feeling the pulse beats in their intertwined hands steady and slow down, becoming a gentle presence, grounding them in the moment.


	13. Chapter 13

Katniss’ eyes flicker open as the late morning light peers through the sheer curtains gently billowing from the window. She reaches up and gently rubs the sleep from her eyes, and looks around at the room—watching the dust dance in the sunlight in one bright stream. She adjusts her gaze toward the ceiling, admiring the slight cracks and chips in the paint: its history. She wonders what else these walls have seen. The once plush and downy bedding has deflated around her. She pushes them down her body, slightly, and places her hand on her bare stomach, feeling the inner-workings under her touch. It’s warm from the sunlight streaming on the blanket.

She thinks of the night before: Johanna’s touch, Johanna’s words, Johanna’s warmth, Johanna’s presence—Johanna. She can almost feel her pulse around her fingers once again.

 

*********

 

When she finally gets downstairs and into the kitchen, she sees no sign of Johanna. Instead, there is a note on the counter.

“Dearest Brainless,

Went out to get some food.

Be back soon.

-J”

A wet ringlet falls from behind her ear and leaves a small mark of water on the note, slightly smudging the winding J. She tries to wipe it clean, running her index finger along the cursive loops in the J.

When she hears the sharp creak of the screen doors’ hinges, she gives the paper a final cleansing swipe—as if her hand could possibly erase it—and turns around to look at the entryway. She pulls the offending damp hair away from her face, plopping it on top on her head in a messy up-do. She sees Johanna in the doorway, wiping off her boots before she comes in. Her hair hangs away from her face as she looks down, the wide brim of her hat covering nearly everything about her face—all but the lower half. Katniss can see Johanna’s rosy pink lips, her bottom one jutting slightly off to the side as she bites down on the corner. Anxious. Focused. Katniss can see her lips changing shape—her teeth retreating back into her mouth as it widens into a smile, pulling at the rest of her face. It’s only then Katniss realizes she’s staring at Johanna’s lips, and Johanna is fully aware.

“Hey, you’re up!” Johanna says, not missing a beat.

Katniss takes in a sharp intake of breath. “Y-yeah. Got up a little while ago.”

 She also realizes that she has, without reason, pinned herself against the counter—her lower back radiating the pain of the sharp bottom edge digging into her back as her palms lay flat on the countertop surface, her elbows jutting out from either side making her look like some malnourished, tattered bird. She eases up and away from the counter, trying to remember to breathe.

“Uh, where’ve you been?”

Johanna sets a medium-sized metal pail on the counter with a dense thud and reaches to take off her hat, wiping away the beads of sweat on her forehead.

“Berry picking!” She says, enthusiastically, “I thought I might make a pie.”

“You? Bake?”

“Yeah, actually—my mom used to make a ton of pies; I learned a lot by watching her.” She remembers berry picking with her mother some early mornings—trading pails for juice-stained shirts. Her mother always gave her a piece of dough to roll out, but all Johanna remembers is taking little nibbles from it and rolling it into a ‘snake’ time and time again. She also watched her mother as she baked—how the flour dust sometimes smudged on her face, how the muscles in her arms moved as she kneaded the dough, the way she would put some berries on her fingertips and bop them on Johanna’s nose.

“So, yeah, Brainless, I can bake.” She pops a berry into her mouth. “But don’t you dare let anyone else know that.” She points a finger at Katniss.

Katniss offers a smile.

The air in the room feels heavy between them, though Johanna has tried to make it as lighthearted as possible. While she would truly love to have Katniss back like she once had her, she also knows the position she is in. She’s not the one to give ultimatums.

Katniss sits at the table in the room as Johanna works quietly around the appliances in the kitchen: setting up stations for washing, drying and separating the berries. She takes a cookbook lying on the center of the table and flips through it aimlessly—amusing herself with the picture-perfect scenery. The cook: a robust, round, blonde woman with a perfectly done face and hair, with a gentle hand on her husband’s shoulder; her sons and grandsons—Katniss supposes, after all, she doesn’t actually know this woman—surround the table; all with smiles on their faces and utensils in hand. She flips the page to see the same woman surrounded by bags of different types of flour, placed in a pattern behind her, and, in front, a gorgeous loaf of braided bread. It makes her think of Peeta—how he is must be nearing the end of his day now. How he will probably walk through the door any minute, take off his shoes, plop on the couch, and doze. She hopes he is well, but doesn’t miss him. She suddenly can’t stand thinking of home anymore and shuts the book a little too aggressively.

Johanna’s eyes swiftly move from the rolling pin to Katniss. She tries to ease the tension.

“Remember that awful gruel they used to serve in thirteen?” Johanna looks from the dough to Katniss a couple of times, awaiting a response. She gently picks up the dough and places it in the pie dish, poking around to make sure it is lying just right in the corner. “This flour is a little different than what I normally use… I just hope it doesn’t turn out like—”

“Sand?” Katniss finally bites. She smiles as she finishes Johanna’s sentence; regaling the memories they had in the mess hall.

“I don’t think anything could taste that bad,” She continues, “I’m pretty sure I found bone shards in there once! You don’t even need meat to make it!”

Johanna puts the bowl down after scooping the filling in. “I remember that now! You picked them out one day at the table and we all put our bowls down and pushed them away.” She makes a disgusted noise just thinking about what they may have eaten that day.

Johanna reaches for the crust dough and lays it atop of the filling, creating a lattice design. “Sae’s days off were always the worst,” She pinches the edges of the pie. “What did they do without her?”

Katniss gives a small scoff at the memory. She looks at Johanna tending to the pie, amazed that she remembers so much after her traumatic incarceration in the capitol, and, frankly, Katniss thinks, because of her affinity for morphling at the time. Perhaps, she thinks, it was just to level her out. It’s all exhausting to think about now.

“It’s amazing she’s still around.” Johanna says, breaking the short silence.

“She’ll outlive us all.” They say together, words overlapping. Amongst the laughs, for a moment, everything is okay.

 

**********

 

The sounds of crickets follow Johanna out to the edge of the dock. It’s not even warm out anymore, but the urge to float on the water and look at the stars is irresistible. She is already naked under the light robe she has wrapped around her. She unties it slowly, watching the moonlight dance on the water, casting a glow on her body. She stands there for a few moments, wanting so badly to jump in, but her body is still paralyzed by fear from time to time. She dips a toe in, then her foot. It’s cold, but she knows she will be used to it after her whole body is in. She sits on the dock and slides the rest of her body in, letting her entire body submerge under the surface. Her whole body reacts—a violent shiver controls her body, making her nipples harden instantly. She emerges from the water and a gasp rips out from her mouth. And it’s over. She’s safe.

Katniss watches from between the gap in her curtains from her bedroom window. She is a few steps back from the sill, standing as they billow around her. She can see Johanna in the moonlight as she shoots up from the surface, gasping for air. Katniss watches her quickly swim out several yards, and become idle, floating in the water. Her heart gives a tug downward, a physical response that she is all-too used to recently. She looks away from her naked, glistening figure and continues her nightly routine. She wavers in her spot, remembering what this felt like so many years ago. So much has changed since they lived underground in Thirteen, and yet, her body seems to react exactly the same when she is around Johanna. She finally takes a step toward the bathroom, away from the window. She reaches for her hairbrush on the vanity, and catches her reflection in the mirror affixed to the wall in front of her. She looks different—healthier; her skin has developed the darker shade she had as a child when she would play outside for hours on end, her cheeks looked fuller—or, maybe it was just the added rosiness to them, she couldn’t tell, and, there was a glow about her: something that hung around her frame, bringing light to her again. And she could feel it, too. Her body hadn’t had that usual dull ache in days, and her chest has felt so full of laughter and love. She finishes brushing her hair, placing the brush back down on the vanity. _I love her._ She thinks, fleetingly. It’s not a sudden realization, she knows, but just something she has been trying to bury down deep within her. But now, it has taken over the invasive thoughts; _‘You’re not capable of love_ , _’ ‘You don’t deserve to be happy,’_ and replaced them with something lighter. She thinks of Peeta, and her heart sinks further. _We deserve to be happy._ She doesn’t remember how she found herself at the top of the stairs, her toes curling over the edge of the top step, but she takes it as it comes. _We deserve happiness_ , she thinks again. “I deserve _this_.” She says to the empty house before moving her feet swiftly down the steps and through the kitchen. She reaches for the door to the outside, her fingertips grazing the small squares that make up the screen. _You deserve happiness_ , she thinks. And it’s all it takes for her to push open the door. She takes long strides to the dock, lifting her short nightgown above her head in process, letting it fall on the grass by the wayside as she moves steadily toward the dock.

Katniss dives in; the lack of sun has significantly cooled the lake, giving her instant goosebumps, nipples becoming almost painfully erect. Johanna adjusts herself in the water when she hears the splash. She can see the rippling waves make an arrow toward her, and her chest freezes, anticipating what may happen. Katniss lifts her head above the water, her body only a foot or so away from Johanna’s. Johanna can see the moon-illuminated water droplets travel down into her eyes, around her nose, and plop into the water beneath. They look at each other in the eye as they float, the only sound around them being the water, surrounding their senses. Katniss reaches up to Johanna’s face and pulls it closer to her own, finally allowing for their lips to touch. They’re cold initially, but when Johanna sneaks her tongue in between their lips, warmth like none other she has felt spreads through her body.

Johanna tries to pull Katniss closer, grabbing at her waist, but they only seem to manage to knee each other, trying to keep afloat. They separate and laugh and use their arms instead, looking each other in the eye in the still darkness.

A beat.

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” Katniss says.

 

***********

 

Their clothes stay outside. Johanna takes Katniss’ outstretched arm in front of her as Katniss leads them inside. It’s not long before their mouths connect again. Kissing, Katniss leads Johanna to the table—the closest surface to them—and leans her on it, moving into their kiss all the more. Johanna can feel the dull corner of the table on her ass as she leans back, and into, Katniss’ kiss. Her heart is pounding in her chest now, the blood moving to other parts of her body. All the same, though, her legs stay closed. _Is this really happening?_ The thought crosses Johanna’s mind when Katniss reaches a hand into her hair and pulls down gently, giving Katniss access to her neck. She looks at the ceiling in shock, until Katniss reaches a sensitive spot just below her ear, and Johanna realizes she really doesn’t care—it feels too good to question.

Katniss lets her hands travel as she sucks on and licks Johanna’s neck—having Johanna underneath her is intoxicating, and she feels like she’s drinking with an empty stomach. She finds Johanna’s still-erect nipples and rubs her thumb over one, suddenly so thankful for the cold water. Johanna puts her hand on Katniss’ shoulder and pushes her off her neck slightly; adjusting so she can kiss Katniss again and reach around her, grabbing her ass. “Is this okay?” Johanna asks. Katniss nods, and lifts her knee to be on the edge of the table. She’s never been surer. Johanna grabs harder, feeling the skin in between Katniss’ legs tighten in her grip, opening to her. She adjusts her own legs apart and can feel the already smooth, slick wetness in between them. She moves her thigh up to meet Katniss’ center; she can feel her core radiating heat on her still-cool thigh. When Johanna’s chilled skin meets Katniss’ center, the sensation makes her gasp. She can feel her lips moving to the sides as Johanna pushes her thigh upwards, putting light pressure on her opening and clit. She hasn’t been touched like this in years. Johanna puts her hands on Katniss’ waist to hold her in place—leaning her slightly backward—and brings her mouth down to Katniss’ chest, taking in a nipple. The warmth around her chilled skin is almost enough to make her moan—but when Johanna begins to flick the nipple with her tongue quickly, taking great care to cup it before she flicks, her head lulls back and the sound escapes her mouth freely. And she lets it go.

Katniss feels as though a part of her has been unleashed as she looks at Johanna in the dim light of the kitchen—one light far off in the living room illuminating their nakedness. She runs her hand down Johanna’s chest, in between her breasts, down to her stomach, and applies a bit of pressure, guiding Johanna to lie on the table. Which she does quite willingly. Katniss moves quickly to Johanna’s breasts, taking a nipple into her mouth as she runs her tongue around it quickly, then slowly, as she rubs the other nipple in between her thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling gently. Johanna lets out a delicate moan when Katniss lets go of her nipple and it springs back down—a moan, Katniss thinks, that couldn’t possibly have the word ‘brainless’ attached to any part of it. It’s such a different sound. A beautiful one.

She abandons Johanna’s breasts to go further down her body—she wants to hear more of Johanna. She kneels on the hard floor and sees Johanna in front of her, lips glistening as she parts her legs, which Johanna does all-too-willingly. Katniss’ tongue is like a warm, thick liquid, Johanna thinks. It envelops her almost immediately, making swift work to go in between her lips, taking each one into her mouth, then circling up, around and down, taking sensitive care of her clit and opening. She can tell Katniss is enjoying herself when she circles Johanna’s opening several times, making Johanna’s legs tremble. Just when she thinks she might reach down and help take care of herself to add to the pleasure—which she has no shame in doing—Katniss plunges the tip of her tongue in and out of Johanna. She can practically feel Katniss smiling from the noise that comes out of Johanna’s mouth in that moment.

“Fuck, Brainless.”

It doesn’t sound half bad following that moan, Katniss thinks.

Katniss moves up to the enlarged nub protruding from its hood and gives it a swift flick with her tongue, creating a louder sound escaping from Johanna’s throat. When she feels Johanna’s legs tighten around her, and her hands curl into her hair and give a slight tug, she doesn’t stop flicking up and down until Johanna eases her grip and rides the wave of her orgasm.

When her heart steadies, Johanna throws an arm out to clear the table of its knick-knacks and books—hearing something collide with the floor and break. She doesn’t care, she’ll reimburse whomever whenever.

“Come up here.” Katniss stands from the floor and climbs atop of Johanna, straddling her, hovering over her face before she reaches down and gives a small kiss before pulling away, making Johanna crane her neck to get another, deeper one. Katniss smiles at her own playfulness, as Johanna reaches down to feel Katniss’ wetness. It’s clear she was enjoying herself while on the floor, as Johanna’s hand could slip down her thigh at this point. It makes her feel sexier, confident, knowing that someone really could feel this way about her. That Katniss could feel this way about her. She moves around a bit, gliding her fingers in between her slit and circling her clit, making Katniss’ naughty grin turn into something so vulnerable and unabashed. “Is this okay?” She asks again. Katniss looks down into her eyes as she has Johanna’s fingers nearly inside of her. “Yes,” Katniss says, sealing it with a kiss. “Please.”

Johanna moves her hand out from in between Katniss’ legs to her hips, moving her up.

“I said,” Johanna smirks, “come up here.”

Katniss does as she is told, moving up Johanna’s body until her core is right below Johanna’s face. Johanna cranes her neck and reaches into Katniss’ fold with her tongue. Though her inside is warm and feels molten, her outer lips are cooler, and Johanna runs her tongue along them, nipping at the crease between Katniss’ legs and her center. The sensation makes Katniss double over and move lower onto Johanna, forcing her tongue in between her wetness. It wasn’t her intention, but Katniss is grateful to be clutching the edge of the table now, giving herself leverage. It only takes a short time of sucking and licking for Katniss to come—a sensation she hasn’t had in years.

She welcomes it willingly.


	14. Chapter 14

The sound of soft rain tinkling on the window pane and sill mingled around Katniss’ ears as she wakes and stretches in the bed, absentmindedly knocking her leg into Johanna. The normal morning light is not flooding in as it had been previous mornings. There is no soft glow emitting from the window, but the curtains still billow to and fro in the gentle breeze. Her head lulls to face Johanna, and her body follows suit—wrapping a leg around the petite woman. Johanna rustles under the sheets at the seemingly foreign touch. She was never a light sleeper, but the trauma of the Games—even several years ago at this point—has changed her forever. Katniss moves the short hair covering the back of Johanna’s neck and places a kiss just under her hairline.

Johanna can’t help the smile that creeps over her face. She moves to her other side, facing Katniss. She didn’t realize how cold she had become in the night—the sheets on her previously-exposed arm feel like a warming pool, surging through her body. She looks into Katniss’ eyes—her pupils large in the dull morning light, hungry looking—and kisses her deeply. She rakes her hand in Katniss’ gentle waves at the base of her skull, pulling her in deeper, nipping at her lip. Katniss gives as much as she receives, much to Johanna’s excitement.

It’s not long before their hands roam in the morning light. When Johanna looks up at Katniss’s figure straddling her pelvis, she thinks she might prefer the daylight to any other light. It’s a new sight for her. Of course, because of Katniss, but also simply because it’s new for her. For years, all of her encounters have been in the dark—barely able to see the figure above or below. Easier to be less ashamed, she figures. But now she sees the light.

**********

“Why now?”

Johanna’s voice makes Katniss’ heart drop in her chest. An image of Peeta immediately flashes in her mind. Her best friend. She admired him for so many reasons—she loves his nurturing and patient attitude, though he had no reason to treat her as well as he did, she thinks. She remembers his careful hands on her body—never roaming too fast or far, and always asking if what he was doing was alright. Though she rarely enjoyed the act, she was happy he was slow, respectful, and easy. She knew she was lucky to be with someone like Peeta—but, she knew that he deserved better. Not this careful—oft-tedious arrangement—she didn’t need coddling anymore, and he deserved better.

“I could ask the same about you.” Katniss deflects.

“Oh, but you know that now…” Johanna trails off, smiling.

“I realized I could really care for someone. That I deserved to love someone… And not out of convenience.” Katniss begins, her breath hitching in her chest as she inhales, “And… you always seemed so… so inevitable.” Katniss looks away from Johanna now, focusing on the billowing curtains, as if out of shame for her own feelings. “You’d always be there in the back of my mind: my biggest what-if.” She says, exhaling deeply—she’s always had a long list of what-ifs that she tried to erase from her brain. Some were easier than others, like Prim. She wasn’t ever going to come back, and Katniss quickly learned there was no use wishing for it. But this—this one had the slightest glimmer of hope, which latched on to Katniss’ brain and made a home, despite her insistence otherwise.

“Will you tell him?”

“Of course. I need to… He deserves it.”

“And after?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I want this—you. In any way I can.”

Katniss slides her fingers into Johanna’s, thinking about what Seven might look like this time of year.


	15. Chapter 15

It wasn’t until Katniss stepped into the half-full train car full of wide-eyes that she began to realize the implication of their—her—decision. She wasn’t used to the sudden hushed tones whenever she was in a public space. It was part of the reason why she went back to Twelve; everyone already knew her—no whispers or stares. Could she really live in another district? She would forever have the whispers surrounding her about being the face of the revolution, for what she lost, for what she had with Peeta, and now… Johanna. Though, she decided as she sat down in her seat next to Johanna, it wasn’t about her addition—it was the celebrity of it all.

But, it was now or never, Katniss thought. Within hours, her life would change: even more than she ever imagined. She turned to the woman at her right—the sunlight cascading on her pale face and raven hair as she watched the world pass by—and felt a wave rise into her chest, bringing a smile with it. She moved her hand to meet Johanna’s on her lap, triggering Johanna’s gaze to move to their hands. She smiled at the sight of them intertwines, and locked eyes with Katniss before she redirected her vision to the greenery outside, rubbing her thumb over Katniss’ palm as she watched the world.

Her thoughts were, too, as fast at the train. Would she be able to handle such a relationship so newly clean? What if she made her home their home and everything fell apart? Would she be strong enough? Would Katniss be okay? Would she like it? Would she still like her?

She reminded herself to not make any expectations, though it was hard. She repeated the mantra Haymitch taught her, “help me accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” It’s something that has guided her through the trip—a trip she needed to take alone or not. She needed to be reminded of the beauty in the world, and Katniss was part of that beauty. She needed to be reminded that not everything was miserable and unsalvageable—beauty could be found in so many ways. She remembers knowing this from a young age as she walked near-aimlessly into the forests, looking at the beauty the world can create on its own—she just needed to be reminded again. She looked forward to introducing Katniss to the biggest trees she had ever seen. She watches the world whip past until her eyelids grow heavy with sleep, and leans into the sides of the chair, hand still entwined with Katniss’.

Her light slumber ends when she hears the announcer voice that they have arrived at the second stop in Seven. Both women get up, and gather a bag. Katniss hands the one in her hand to Johanna once she had her own pack on her back, and Johanna opts for a small kiss on the cheek.

“See you soon, Brainless.”

Katniss smiles and lets her go—they both know what will happen in Twelve is something Katniss needs to do on her own.

**********

Katniss walks off the platform into the twilight, her breath puffing out in a weak cloud in front of her. Her body feels all the more tired from the rigid position her body has been in for a near day. She lolls her head from side to side, encouraging the muscles to stretch and joints to pop. While her mind rushes in excitement thinking about the next time she will be on the train, her joints disagree, lumbering along as she walks to a car to take her home.

She holds her solitary suitcase and closes the car door behind her, thanking the driver as she looks at her home. Peeta’s home. She can tell from the outside that no one is up, Peeta would be long in bed by now after working at the bakery. The warm glow of Haymitch’s neighboring house lures Katniss away from her own.

She’s happy when Effie answers the door with a cup of tea in hand.

“Oh, my dear Katniss, come in.” She extends the door further into her home, welcoming Katniss in. Katniss smiles immediately—once she got to know her, Effie never ceased to make her smile.

Haymitch sits on the couch, where Effie joins him—both he and Effie in their pajama robes, looking positively peaceful and in love.

“How was your trip?” He asks.

Katniss smiles and takes a deep breath, “Good.”

She doesn’t go into too much detail, but from her descriptions and expression, Effie can read between the lines. She thinks back to the time in Thirteen and just after the fall in the Capitol—how close Katniss and Johanna were in that incredibly difficult time. Despite being raised in the Capitol, Effie was an extremely perceptive woman, and could see the story behind Katniss’ veiled words and facial expressions when she spoke of her time with Johanna.

“I just…” Katniss continues, “I needed this time to think about myself.”

“Of course.” Effie reaches over to Katniss’ knee and gives her a gentle rub.

Katniss begins to tear up, “And… one of the things I realized is that I needed to be fair to Peeta. He deserves so much better than me. Than this… situation, this arrangement.” Tears roll down Katniss’ cheeks steadily now, as she talks about Peeta. “I really do love him. But I’m holding him back from such great things.”

Effie pulls her closer for a hug. Haymitch looks on in slight astonishment, but places a comforting hand on Katniss’ back.

“Please look after him… would you?” Katniss asks them, wiping wetness from underneath her nose.

“Of course. He’ll bounce back. He always does.” Haymitch keeps his hand on Katniss’ back, rubbing back and forth between her shoulder blades.

“Where will you go?” Effie asks, sagely.

“Seven… for now, anyway.” Katniss gives Effie a small smile before saying her goodbyes and heading back to her own home. Peeta’s home.

She makes her way back to the house where she has spent the past seven years with Peeta. She slips her key in the lock and turns the knob, trying to make as little noise as possible. The door creaks loudly as she enters—she meant to fix that before she left, she thinks. She puts her case down in the entryway and makes her way into the living room, slumping into the stiff sitting chairs. There’s no use waking him, she thinks, no use slipping into bed with him and confusing the situation.

Katniss’ light sleep breaks to Peeta’s footsteps as he comes downstairs.

“When did you get home?”

“Late. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Katniss says, almost too curtly. She can’t bear to look at him.

Peeta bends over to greet her with a kiss, placing a hand on her own in her lap. Her hands are cold to the touch, and the cheek she offers also feels chilled under his lips, which are still warm from slumber.

“How was your trip?” He sits in the seat beside her.

“You’re right. It’s what I needed.” She finally looks at him—her eyes look heavy. For all he hoped would come out of this trip, as he looks at Katniss’ face—the plummeting feeling he has in his stomach tells him she has come to another decision. He looks away, unable to hide the welling tears in his eyes. He knew it may come to this—he’s not a naïve man, he just hoped for something different.

“I’m sorry,” she says, reaching for the hand on his knee.

“Me too.” He doesn’t know why he says it—he doesn’t know what he’s particularly sorry for—he didn’t do anything wrong by her, ever, but… he knows it was never the way it could—should—have been.

“You always took care of me.” Katniss says in a near whisper, putting her hand on Peeta’s cheek, bringing his face to look at hers. “You were a great husband.”

Peeta looks down, his tears now trickling down his cheeks—tumbling over Katniss’ thumb. She rubs the tears up and down his cheek before she lets her hand drop.

“I can’t give you what you want.” She remembers the bright look on his face whenever he saw children playing in the streets—toddling after a butterfly or a ball—and how he would look to her with such lightness. She knew he wanted desperately to be a father—to show a child all the good that could come of this world. But, for Katniss, she knew she may repeat the same cycle her mother had set out. She wasn’t at the same place he was, and wasn’t sure she could ever be. An adorable child lightly tugging at her leg wouldn’t fix it—couldn’t make her love him the way he wanted her to. So, she did what she thought was the least selfish act—leaving to give him a chance to have the life he desperately wants and deserves.

He knows this, too. While he has always loved Katniss—being in love with her was never easy. He never felt like he should change her, or expect different from her, but he knows their relationship came from a place of pain, loneliness, and convenience. They didn’t need each other the same way they did when they were eighteen.

“Where will you go?” He asks, lifting his head up to face Katniss.

“Seven, for now. Johanna will put me up.” She leaves it at that. While she may be leaving him for her, she’s leaving to give them both a chance at happiness.

“I love you.” She continues, wrapping her arms around him, pressing his wet cheek to her own.

“I know.” He says. He knows she’s right, in the end—it’s necessary.

She makes her way to the entryway to gather her suitcase, and bow that is hanging on the wall. He opens the door for her, the soft, bright morning light pushing through the cracks in the heavy door.

“I’ll write.” She says when she’s left the last step and turns to face him.

He stands in the doorway, his right arm above his head, supporting the weight of his body. He gives her a simple nod, and she turns around and walks off. He, too, turns his back to her and shuts the door.

**********

“One way to Seven, please.” She can see the confusion on the attendant’s face—it’s one of the few workers she saw at the station last evening. The girl looks like she has gotten about as much sleep as Katniss. Briefly, Katniss worries about the sight—she could see it in the papers the next day: Katniss Everdeen, holding a solitary suitcase, requests a one-way train ticket, without her beau in tow. Even without the Capitol as they knew it, the rumor mill never stops turning.

She makes her way to the last seat in the car, placing her case and bow above her in the storage compartment, and sits next to the window.

The last-call bell rings a little too loud, making her flinch in her seat a little and grip the arm rest. She takes a deep breath as she looks outside at the world in the early morning light, her heart skipping a beat—an excited tightness in her chest rising as the train gives its gentle jolt forward.


End file.
